


Magenta Moon Rising

by Prototype



Series: The Magenta Universe [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, Loyalty, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Teenagers, highschool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 31,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prototype/pseuds/Prototype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey Way is the social prince of highschool, and woe betide anyone who threatens his delicate balance of friends, gossip and hairspray.<br/>The last thing he needs is his geeky brother and his total bitch of a new best friend ruining things. </p><p>And when he says bitch, he literally means bitch.</p><p> </p><p>Written in 2008. I'm particularly fond of this series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The myths of vampires are legendary. 

The garlic, the cross, sunlight, stakes and holy water. Drinking blood, casting no reflection and sleeping in a coffin. Well – the poetry’s lovely and the myths are good for writers and eccentrics – Stoker and Rice and the others. Long dead Gothic tales lost in dusty books high on shelves. Sometimes resurrected for the romance lying cold in withered veins of ink and imagination by black clad teenagers with souls as deep as puddles. 

There is something beautiful in the idea of vampires – cursed souls that drink the blood of virgins and innocents. 

What is it about vampires that excite human interest and bring blood gushing to the surface of skin? 

I don’t know, to be honest, but vampires have always fascinated me. But this story, unfortunately for me, isn’t about vampires. I wish…but no, not vampires. A far more canine, feral beast. A girl. A girl with mood swings and wicked eyes. A girl by the name of Magenta. 


	2. II

“Michael Way, get your pasty white butt down here right now before I boot you so hard you’ll be gulping with three Adam’s apples!!”

My brother – so suave with his words. 

“Fuck off, Ger, if I don’t come down, you can’t kick me!” I laughed, yelling from the bathroom. 

“Then I’ll come up there and do it!”

“Luckily for me you’re too fat to climb the stairs!”

There was a vast amount of swearing as Gerard called me every name he could think of, and then slammed the front door to sulk in the car. I giggled to myself and finished straightening my hair, going cross-eyed in the mirror. I pulled a face, jamming my beanie over my head and pushing my glasses back up my nose. I hated the way I looked, but it was better than nothing. And a lot better than some of the car crashes at school. But still didn’t mean I looked good – I was 16, thin bordering on skinny and lean. I worked out hard, and I had started to develop the muscles I wanted, but I was still too thin to bulk out properly, but that was ok. I’d just keep eating fastfood and shit and I’d get there one day. 

“Mikey, honey, better hurry up if you wanna get to school soon,” my mom pointed out as she walked past the bathroom door. 

“Sure, mom,” I said, making another face as I drew two lines of eyeliner on my eyes and slipped out of the bathroom, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time. I grabbed my lunch off the kitchen counter, kissed Mom’s cheek and ran out. 

Gerard was blasting Green Day out of the car stereo when I got in – ignoring me for my fat comment. He isn’t fat, just chubby. He doesn’t go out at all, he holes himself up in his room and eats and drinks and takes pills and draws until his hands cramp up. Occasionally he comes home with a girlfriend but it never lasts – he doesn’t mind too much, he’s certain the ‘right’ girl is just around the corner. I don’t bother pointing out he isn’t walking around any corners to find her. 

Me, I’m the opposite, I’m a party animal and I love girls. I’m a bit of a pimp, I know way more girls than guys and I’ve been with loads of them. I’m still a virgin technically, but that’s my choice. The girls I hook up with are great and I have fun with them, but you sleep with a girl, the clean up’s always way too messy to bother with. So I have my fun, and move on. I don’t bother with names mostly, unless I like them enough to befriend them afterwards. At school, I know every cute and hot girl there, and a whole bunch of the nerdy ones too, I know every detail of their lives – their families, fetishes, subjects, musical tastes and weekend plans. I’m the pimp and I’m pretty popular – my parties are legendary.    

Driving to school, Gerard continues to ignore me, singing along to Green Day and I’m trying to finish off a Biology essay due in that morning, trying not to let my pen scratch all over the page as the car jolts. 

“Goddamn van drivers! Think they can park anywhere,” hmphed Gerard, as he parked in front of the school. I looked up and found he was glaring at the back of an ugly arse old style 60s hippy van parked crappily on the verge. 

“Who’s is that?” I asked, curious – I thought I knew all the drivers in school. Gerard shrugged and kicked the door open, me following suit. The van was really badly parked, half on the grass and half on the road, and it used to be a black and white vintage dormobile, except it was covered in rainbow spray paintings of Banksy style stencils and graffiti lettering. I walked around the edge of it, onto the grass, reading the brightly coloured bubble letters in pink, red, yellow and orange: Magenta Moon Rising.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I muttered under my breath, shuffling my papers to under my other arm, before shaking my head and looking towards school. Gerard was already slinking inside, intent of finding his arty friends and holing himself in the art rooms again. Instead of going inside, I went over to a group of cheerleaders sitting on the grass and sat down with them, enjoying the sunlight on my skin. 

“Hey Mikey, good weekend?” asked Jade, leaning over to kiss my cheek. That told me in one movement she was currently content with her boyfriend and they didn’t have another fight. 

“Yeah, it was cool. Did you guys check out that party at Sally’s?” I asked, grinning. They shook their heads. 

“Looked lame,” sighed Kimberley, picking at her nails. 

“Nah, it was good, it was-“

I was interrupted by Jade’s soap opera gasp. Our attention was snapped up by the sliding door of the spray painted van being kicked open. It was dark inside, the light not reaching the dark confines. A few crushed beer cans fell out onto the grass, and the sound of heavy metal could be heard seeping out of the darkness. Next a figure grabbed either side of the gaping side and threw herself out, onto the grass, turning and pulling the door shut, slamming it and locking the door. She turned and leaned against the van door, rubbing her eyes sleepily and shoving a pair of sunglasses over them. 

I looked her up and down slowly, watching her as she went around picking up the beer cans, and lighting up a cigarette. She wore baggy black jeans, tight around her arse and loose around her legs, ripped at the knees and dotted with grass stains and mud. Her top was a tiny strappy, black and showed off a flat, muscled stomach and an impressive bust. She had a tattoo over her heart, but I couldn’t see it, she had a big dark green military jacket thrown over her shoulders, cancelling out whatever attractive curves she had in it’s bulk. She rubbed her eyes again, rubbing faded eyeliner away and pushing back long braided black hair, tying two bunches together to show her slender pale neck, complete with another tattoo. 

She was a bit of a mess, but interesting none the less. I watched her dump the cans in the trash and walk away, towards us. Kimberley and Jade made noises, but I just watched impassively. She ignored us completely – at least I think she did, the shades were impossible to see behind – and kept walking. She stalked like an animal, her entire body coiled like she could react at any second. I watched her pass us, and noticed she stunk of weed and beer, the familiar smells of Gerard’s room. There was another scent as well, gone before I could identify it. 

So…new girl. Maybe Gerard and her would find the right corner to bump into each other after all…


	3. III

“Thank you finally for joining us, Mr Way,” said my teacher, sighing as I skidded into the biology room and grinned at my friends (aka, the class) and waved freely, going to sit down. 

“Sorry, my bad!”

I didn’t want to announce to the class the reason I’d been late was because Kimberley and I had been having a catch up bitch session at the lockers. The teacher continued to talk in her clipped tone, addressing different pupils about their homework, and leaving me to turn around and whisper to my friends. There was another gasp and I turned around again to find that girl standing in the doorway, glowering at the teacher and darkening the room with her presence. 

“Ah! You must be the new student, Miss Sharp, right?” said the teacher, seeming annoyed at the girl’s appearance and smell. The girl gave a curt nod, looking over towards the class, as if daring us to snigger or even breathe. No one moved, just watched her quietly as she took a few steps inside. 

“Name’s Magenta,”

Oh…that explained the slogan. Kinda. 

There were one or two sniggers around the room now, and she turned towards them, raising an eyebrow dangerously, eyes still hidden by oil surface shades. Our teacher coughed lightly to distract her. 

“If you could just find a seat, Magenta, we can get on with the lesson. I hope you brought a pen?” she asked, raising her eyebrows disapproving. Magenta pulled on the canvas shoulder bag slung around her and patted the faded material. 

“Oh aye,”

“Then find a seat,” said the teacher, dismissing her. She turned towards the class, fearless and confident. She reminded me of a drill sergeant, what with the shades and the jacket, and the scowl. I would’ve laughed but I don’t laugh at anyone – I’m everyone’s friend. Kimberley obviously didn’t care, she sniggered loudly in the back. Magenta seemed to grow bigger, turning her face towards Kimmy, her entire aura growing darker. I coughed loudly, twisting to look at Kimberley, giving her a look. She shut up. 

Magenta moved forward in the classroom, going for the first spare seat…which got filled by the girls’ rucksack. Magenta hmphed and looked for the next one…and the stool seemed to vanish. She rolled her eyes and looked around again, everyone filling their spaces. I sighed irritably and pulled out a stool next to me. 

“Hey, new girl, here’s one,” I offered, smiling. She looked at me, and nodded. A smile was beyond her. 

“Cheers,” she muttered, throwing her bag down and slinking into the seat. She did smell quite strongly of alcohol and drugs, but there was something else. A deep, feral smell, almost canine. A smell that seemed to infect my nostrils, a human smell, a scent of warm bodies and sweat and spit…but not revolting. I was drawn to it. 

It creeped me out, to tell the truth. 

All the way through the lesson, she sat, her bag between us on the desk. Her pen scratched wildly over the beaten up pad in front of her, taking notes rapidly. Sneaking glances, I noticed how her thin wrists peeked out for her jacket, both circled by two woven black bands with strange misshapen rainbow glass beads woven into them. Her left had a silver moon dangling from the braid, the right a silver sun. Weird shit.

Her black bitten nails were sharp and ragged – they looked like they grew too fast for her to cut them in time. Her hair was long – really long, it reached nearly her waist. 

I wished I could’ve seen her eyes behind the shades but I couldn’t – the dark lens covered up the whole socket part of her pale oval face and two heavy braids of pitch black hung down the side of her face – cutting them off completely. 

All this observation was out of the corner of my eye, and very suave, if I do say so myself. I think the oddest thing about her was her mouth – it had one of those Cupid’s bows which curve up even when her face was impassive. It made it look like her was smirking gently even when she was scowling horribly. And she had this little scar on her lip…a slit just off centre of her bottom lip, with a triangular line travelling just before the dip of her chin. Peering again, and she had another small white line of scar tissue on her left eyebrow.

Where had she gotten those? And the piercings? The tattoos? The van? The attitude? 

Who was this girl?


	4. IV

Lunch time, and I was sitting in the centre table, alongside Kimberley, Jade, Josh and a whole bunch of the other popular girls and guys of the school. The shining, happy people. We ate our lunches, cracked jokes, preened and giggled and basically proved just how gorgeous we were. 

I knew my brother would come into the canteen, buy his lunch, then take it to eat in the art rooms – I never failed to notice him in his black clothing slink into the lunch room and creep along the walls. I always felt awkward when he appeared – he never made eye contact at school, he never associated himself with me. I felt like he was ashamed of me instead of the other way around. 

But today, he wasn’t the only one to slink in – Magenta stalked into the food room mere minutes before he did. All eyes fell on her, and conversation died down at first. She stood in the doorway, looking like she’d just appeared, like some sort of horrific angel of rock and roll. Her shaded eyes scanned the room, and her nose led her straight to the food – down the middle of the room. Boots thumped on the floor, jacket swishing aside from her bag – fixed on the food. People avoided looking at her as she passed – but stared once she’d passed them by. She seemed to demand attention whilst scorning it. 

“Jeesh, it’s called a shower,” muttered Kimmy as she passed us, causing Magenta to twitch her head to the side in irritation – it was obvious she’d heard. Her ear even seem to twitch. 

“Shut up, Kimmy,” I said quietly, nudging her as Magenta stalked towards the queue. There was that scent again – it carried on the air like a perfume of some wild thing. I noticed Josh and the other guy’s eyes had glazed over – staring fixedly. I shook my head free of it, and glanced up to see Gerard creeping up the side of the canteen – staring at his boots. I watched quietly as he joined the queue right behind her. His head snapped up straight away – he sensed her presence the way all the guys in the hall seemed to be. 

The raw power coming off her in waves. 

When I next looked up, they were both gone and everything was light and airy and loud again. Everyone seemed to have forgotten she was even there. 

That afternoon was double Chemistry, my worst subject. I managed to set fire to the desk, cause a few minor explosions, set off the fire alarm and douse everyone in water. And I messed up my hair. 

Not a good lesson. 

Plus, I got landed with two weeks detention. Shit. 

After school that day, I was sitting in the detention room, attempting to do my maths homework and waiting for the teacher to arrive. It was nearly the end of the school – obviously Chem was cancelled once everyone dried off and the lab was aired out again. I could hear two people arguing in the corridor, just over the music of my MP3, but I tried to ignore it, figuring it was Kim and her boyfriend or something, and I never eavesdropped. I merely gossiped shamelessly afterwards.

But then I caught a sniff of that scent – Magenta’s smell – and I instantly looked up, mouth hanging open. I could see her in the corridor, red in the face and arguing with the evil bitch monitor of the halls – the evilest teacher known to studentkind. 

“I’m not taking them off,” yelled Magenta stubbornly, finishing a rant which left her arms angrily crossed across her chest and a scowl imprinted on her face. 

“Then get in there and sit until I say you can leave. Feel free to leave when you want to take them off and move that revolting van of yours,” screeched the teacher and stormed off, leaving Magenta in the hall. The new girl groaned and rubbed her temple, before slipping into the doorway. 

I gave her a half smile she ignored, staring impassively at me before going to sit at the back of the classroom, plonking herself down on the desk and crossing her legs, shoving her bag over her lap. A few minutes later, she pulled out a sketchpad and began doodling in it. 

Oh yeah, art freaks. They always look the same. 

I tried to ignore her, the last thing I needed in my perfect life was a crazy art freak who smelt bizarre and pissed off my friends. She was welcome to hang with my brother and his friends, but I wasn’t going anywhere near her. 

But, having said that, she was filling the room with her scent. It was intoxicating. It pulled me closer, made my breaths longer and deeper and I released each one with a sigh. I closed my eyes and I could feel the tips of my fingers buzzing – she was giving off some creepy vibes. I didn’t like it, I really didn’t like it. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed her chewing on the end of her pencil, staring at the paper. The weird thing was, her canines were longer and pointy than mine, her teeth looked quite ferocious…I wouldn’t want to get a hicky from her, she looked like she had a harsh bite. 

Half an hour passed of her sketching away and of me fidgeting and trying not to make it too obvious her presence was driving me crazy. The evil bitch teacher of doom came back at one point – yelled at her to sit on a chair, demanded she take her sunglasses off again and then left, muttering darkly. 

Magenta just hmphed loudly and went back to her drawing. I glanced around – and saw her reaching under her glasses to rub her eyes again. 

“Why don’t you just take them off? You could go home then…” I said softly. She snapped her head up, eyes aimed straight at me. It made the hairs on the back of my head stand up. 

“I’m not taking these off,” she said firmly, before looking back down. Obviously she thought the conversation was over. 

“Why not?” I asked, my curiosity dumping me in it. When she looked up again, I could see her raised eyebrows over the rims – she wasn’t impressed. 

“Because I’m not,” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. There was something I was missing here, but I didn’t think it’d be wise to push it any further. I just shrugged and went back to my maths homework…which hadn’t been touched once she’d entered the room. 

“You’re Way’s brother, aren’t you?” 

Her voice made me jump, and I turned to find her behind me, standing right behind my shoulder. She’d moved so silently and so fast, it scared the shit out of me. Her human, musky smell was almost overpowered by the stench of cigarettes and weed from her jacket. And she wasn’t any less threatening inches away than she was metres away…

“Yeah,” I stammered, “I’m Mikey,” I said. I wondered if I should offer my hand, but it stayed frozen to my chair from the way I was twisted – it refused to move to touch her. She made a noise…like ‘huh’. 

“He mentioned you,” she said, like it was a big thing. People talk about me all the time – I’m Mikey Way, I practically own the school’s social circle. I knew all the right people, I went to all the best parties, I was the most popular kid in school. Everything I did was everyone else’s business. If I was upset, I got phone calls from everyone who knew my number, and visits from those I actually ever called back. If I was angry, favours instantly flowed in. Where I went, who I talked to – they were instantly popular. People followed me like a cult – and she thought it was note worthy to say someone mentioned me?

Of course, I didn’t say that…what I said was

“Who? Gerard?”

She nodded, black dreads rasping over her jacket. Then she leant forward, slowly, drawing her face closer to mine. Freaked, I began to move backwards, my side hitting the desk. She stopped then, her face inches from mine, her eyes still hidden. Then she gave a smile, the first I’d ever seen her give. Her mouth just curved into this evil looking smirk. 

“Yeah…you’re ok,” she said, sniffing and licking her lips – tasting the air. Then she went back to her desk and ignored my existence. 


	5. V

“What a fucking weird day,” I sighed as I walked up the path to my home. Gerard always stayed at school afterwards, holed up in the art block with his sketchbooks and whatever hell else he messed around with up there. I went up after I finally got released from detention (Magenta got held up, thankfully, for another lecture) and went to find him, looking for a lift home. 

The only time I actually _want_ him to be around me is when he isn’t! He’d gone home early, God knows why, he hates being at home when Dad was. Dad usually left for work around 7, he worked the night shift at the station – he stayed home all day and terrorised Gerard for his appearance, his lifestyle, whatever. He seemed to hate the guy…so Gerard never stuck around for long. Even after school kicked him out, he usually went over to that weird punk rock kids’ house, Frank or something, or to the fluff ball’s to play videogames. 

Enough of that though, back to me!

It was a warm afternoon, and hadn’t been too bad walking home, except I had to carry my jacket instead of wear it. Sunlight didn’t bother me, I liked it, mainly because I never burnt. I threw my bag and jacket down as soon as I entered my house, kicking my shoes off and yelling I had come home – Mom should’ve been home around now, and Dad definitely was, the radio was playing in the kitchen. Gerard was most likely sealed up in his room. 

“Hey Mikes,” said my father as I entered the kitchen. He was wearing mom’s apron, his face creased into a smile. The radio blared loud Aerosmith out, ignoring the fact it was making the window shiver from the volume. Dad liked to blast music out. I could tell he’d been up about an hour or so, he was showered, dressed and had had at least one coffee – and he was busy making his breakfast/our tea. 

“Hey Dad, sleep well?” I asked, knowing this was the only time we saw each other, for a few hours in the late afternoon, early evening. He smiled. 

“Never better. Batter?” he offered, holding up the bowl he was stirring. “I felt like making cake,”

My eyebrows raised, but I didn’t say anything. Dad had a bit of a poisonous temper, especially when mocked. 

“Cool,” I settled for, running my finger around the edge of the bowl and going to sit down by the scrubbed kitchen table, my fingertip instantly finding the one grainy knot of wood in it that it always touched. 

“Have you seen your brother?” asked Dad, his voice dropping gruffly, facing the bench again. I shrugged. 

“Not since lunchtime…he’s around though, I saw his car out front,” I said softly. Gerard was usually able to sneak in and out under Dad’s music, meaning they never had to speak. Dad hated the way Gerard seemed to be wasting his life, Gerard just plain hated our father. I didn’t get involved, it was seriously uncool. 

“He’s probably slitting his wrists up in his room or something,” growled my father, cursing under his breath, calling Gerard names I was sure Gerard didn’t deserve. “Little shit,” he muttered finally, spooning the batter into a cake tin. 

“Is Mom around?” I asked, changing the subject quickly. 

“She isn’t home yet, Mikes, but she should be. You wanna help me make some cookies?”

I smirked privately. “Nah, sorry, Dad, gotta go do some maths homework,” I said, standing up. I nipped over to steal another fingertip’s worth of cake mix. “Cheers,”

He winked at me as I left the kitchen, no prizes in guessing I was the favourite. Dad used to be a jock in high school, the athlete and the popular guy – now he relied on me to do that for him. Even though I hate football.  

I grabbed my bag and clomped up the stairs to Gerard’s room. Me and him may not be the best of friends, but we were still close. I always hung out in his room in the afternoons. Most of the time, we didn’t talk that much, he drew while I did my homework or messed around on his computer, but we did play videogames, or play fight and stuff – just natural brother stuff. I knocked on his door, pulling my maths book out of my bag. 

“Hey Gerard, what happened to you at school?” I asked as I pushed my way into his room, squinting in the semi light. I looked around, until I realised he was lying on his bed, hands behind his head, feet crossed, smiling as music played into his ears. I walked over and poked his ribs, making him jump. “Dude, fire!” I yelled into his ear, making him swat me. 

“Fuck off, Mikes, I’m in too good a mood to be pissed off,” he said, sticking his tongue out. My eyebrows shot up and I looked over at his CD player. 

“You’re listening to HIM? That can only mean one thing!” I said, chuckling. 

“You’re right little brother – I met a girl I like,” he confirmed, grinning and sighing – the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. Crush. I smirked. 

“Let me guess…dark hair, dreaded, sunglasses, van, scowl, big stinking jacket, boots, couple of scars and tats – goes by the name of Magenta,” I said. Gerard opened his eyes, a bit surprised. “I had Science with her. And detention…”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” he sighed. “She’s just so…”

“Cranky?”

“No, well, yes, but she’s just…wow, she’s like no one I’ve ever met before!”

“Definitely one of a kind,” I agreed, sitting down on the floor and spreading my work out. I can work and talk at the same time. 

“She’s just so real and gritty and she doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks – she’s just so cool,” Gerard continued, the boy was smitten. I smirked to myself. 

“She seems a bit arrogant to me…” I shrugged. 

“A bit, but she’s so amazing that it doesn’t matter,” he sighed again. God, stop sighing!

“What’d you two talk about?”

“Loads of stuff – music, art, the school, a lot about her life. She’s come down here from half way across the country, she keeps moving, she’s free like that…”

“What about her parents?”

“She didn’t talk about them, just said they constantly moved around, she just followed,” 

“How long’s she planning on staying?” I asked curiously. 

“No clue, she didn’t know herself, she said hopefully a while, it depends,”

“On what?”

“She didn’t say,”

I mused over this as I filled in my answers. 

“Hey Ger – did she take her sunglasses off?”

“Huh? No…why?”

“Just curious. Did you ask why she wore them?”

“Yeah, she just shrugged,”

“She’s a weird one,” I muttered. 

“But just so amazing…” he sighed again. 

Oh dear – love struck goth puppy.            


	6. VI

After dinner, Gerard and I went back to his room. Gerard’s hair hung over his eyes, shading his silence over dinner, hiding his hurt feelings as Dad picked on him mercilessly, mocking his hair, his nails, just tearing him apart. Mom and I tried to get him to change the subject, but any intervention I tried got me dragged in as an example of what Gerard should have been like. 

As soon as we reached Gerard’s room, he glanced at the clock and made a noise. He went straight over to his chest of drawers and began rifling through it, looking for whatever he felt he needed. 

“What’s up?” I asked, sitting down on his bed and watching as he held up t shirts and shirts – swearing under his breath. 

“I’m meeting someone at half 7, I don’t wanna be late,” he muttered as he pulled the black t shirt he was wearing off and grabbing some deodorant. 

“And you’re getting…changed?” I asked, surprised. Gerard was one of those people who considered rumpled clothing off the floor clean if it didn’t smell too bad. If people didn’t like it – tough, he wasn’t sprucing up for anyone. Then it clicked. 

“Ah…it this a date meeting?” I teased, standing up. Gerard turned to glare at me, a shirt over his shoulders, pale fingers struggling to button it up. 

“No,” he said quickly. 

“Oh yes it is! You’re wearing BO buster, dressing up – you might even brush your hair!”

Gerard looked panicked. “Do you think I should?”

I laughed. “You’re meeting Magenta tonight, aren’t you?”

Gerard blushed. “No,”

“Yes you are!”

“Fine, I am, shut up!” he said sulkily, going over to the mirror and sort out the mess of his hair. I laughed as he tried to figure out where the fuck his parting was. 

“Ok, firstly, lose the shirt, she’ll hate it – just shove your Misfits t shirt on,”

“Why them?”

“She had their logo on her van, now shove!”

“Ok…”

“Ooo, and wear your tighter black jeans, with the knees out, show off your arse a bit,”

“Why can’t you say that kind of stuff around Dad? If he thinks you’re gay, he won’t hate me as much!”

“Shut up. Ooo, and leather jacket, definitely, she’ll love the leather,”

“How can you tell?”

“I know girls, and I can tell from her she’ll love leather – and don’t forget your eyeliner,”

“I don’t wear-“

“Bullshit, yes you do, hurry up!”

Gerard hmphed and quickly shifted to obey my orders.     

“Oh, and Ger?” I said, rummaging around for his leather. 

“What?” he called from the depths of his drawer. 

“Get her a rose,”

“What?!”

“Oh come on, you’re the one who listens to HIM and reads shitty Gothic romances – one single red, or deep blue rose, your choice on colour, although red is traditional,” 

“Why a rose?”

“It’s romantic you doofus,”

“She doesn’t strike me as a particularly romantic girl…”

“She’s not, or isn’t on the surface, but every girl loves a little bit of cliché in their lives – that’s why you give just one! It’s a hint of romance, a bit of sweetness and she’ll love it – even if she doesn’t seem to,”

“You think?”

“Five bucks she flushes,”

“Fine,”      

 

 

 

 

After Gerard had climbed down the drainpipe with his perfectly arranged messy hair, neatly outlined eyes and perfect outfit, I sat down on the computer and logged into MSN – half the school was waiting for me. I only bothered to reply to Kim though. 

**Don't Google Yourself** – Hey Kim

**Princess Kimberly the Third** – Hiya! So what happened to you after school? A bunch of us drove to the mall!

**Don't Google Yourself** – Cool cool! I got detention, the fun and joy. 

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Ew. Hey, was that stinky girl there? Barbs told me she was having a bitch fit at Miss Hustings, and got about three months worth of detentions! Lol

**Don't Google Yourself** – Yeah, she was

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – You poor thing, how could you breathe?

**Don't Google Yourself** – She didn’t smell that bad, Kim, I think it was just the jacket 

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Obviously a fashion reject as well as a stinkbomb – did you talk to her?

**Don't Google Yourself** – Briefly

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Whatcha find out?   

**Don't Google Yourself** – Nothing really, she knows my brother

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Great, they can have freak babies together

**Don't Google Yourself**  – lol, whatever…

Should I tell Kimberley all the stuff Gerard told me? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like to gossip, but I usually only spread things told to me, even if it’s obvious I told them. I like to know everything about everyone, and knowing more about Magenta was certainly a hand over everyone else…but Kim was my best friend. On the other hand, I didn’t really like her ripping the piss outta people like my brother and Magenta. On the other, other hand, she was just another freak, she could deal with it. 

It’s not like it matters. 

**Don't Google Yourself**  – He told me she moved here with her parents, they move around a lot 

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Jailbreak I bet, lol!

**Don't Google Yourself**  – Bullshit, you make up such shitty stuff :P

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – I know! And people believe it – haha!

**Don't Google Yourself**  - …lol. Gerard thinks she’s cool, she’s a bit odd though…

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Your brother’s freaky too, what’s he know?

**Mikey, Just Mikey** \- …yeah, whatever

I don’t really like people laying into my brother too much. It just makes me uncomfortable. 

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – So…what shall we say? Convicts, delinquents or whore in need of a new circle? 

**Don't Google Yourself**  – wtf?

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – We’ve gotta spread something about her! She’s fresh meat

**Don't Google Yourself**  – I’m not spreading anything like that, I’m not bothered by her

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – But it’ll be fun!

**Don't Google Yourself**  – Meh

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Oh come on, she’s obvious a arrogant art bitch

**Don't Google Yourself** – Doesn’t matter, my brother’s friends with her, so she’s off limits to rumours, ok? You can tell people the truth, but I don’t wanna hear any of that convict, whore shit.

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Jeesh, fine! Ruin my fun. HMPH. 

**Don't Google Yourself** – Don’t pout at me, Kimmy :P

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – Why you care so much bout her and him so much anyway?

**Don't Google Yourself**  – He’s my brother, I love him – even if he is a freak. He deserves a break, and she seems like she’s not gonna bother too much with us. Just leave em. 

**Princess Kimberley the Third** – I like you so much better when you’re a bitch * pout *

**Don't Google Yourself** – Well, in that case, wanna know what I overheard in the library bout Harry and Leah?

Thus ends the brotherly affection and beginnth the bitch session!


	7. VII

My homework was finished, my attention bored by my friends online and my eyes growing heavy from the boring TV by the time Gerard came home. He dragged himself in, hair flopping over his eyes and dragging his boots. He collapsed in the chair next to me, yawning. 

“Fuck me, I’m tired…” he moaned. I chuckled. 

“From what?” I asked, grinning suggestively. He rolled his eyes and leaned over to punch my arm. 

“Shut up, you perv,”

“Good evening?” I asked, yawning. It was close to midnight. Gerard nodded, yawning himself. His boots were covered in mud and his knees with grass-stains. 

“Um…kinda. She’s seriously cool…and completely insane!”

He sounded happy about it, but there was something else, a kind of wistfulness. I glanced over at him. 

“Sounds about right…she like the rose?” I asked, grinning. Gerard’s face broke into a grin. 

“She laughed, punched my arm, took it and called me a soppy freak,”

“She blush?”

“Too dark to tell,”

“Shit…did she go all quiet and smile a lot?”

“Um…yeah, bit more than usual,”

“Booyah – five bucks, vampy!”

Gerard moaned, and pulled his wallet out, handing over the money. 

“Where’d all the mud come from?”

“Went walking through a graveyard – her choice, not mine,” he giggled.

“Learn anything else interesting?” I fished gently. Gerard’s eyes flashed over to me, and I saw a hint of contempt. I really didn’t like that. 

“Why? So you can go tell all your little friends and spread it all around school? A person’s life is their own business, Mikey,” he muttered. He hated me and my friends at school, he particularly hated Kim and her massive gossip webs and rumours. I sighed critically. 

“For your information, I told Kim to leave Magenta and you alone – I think it’s cool you like her so much, so don’t get all huffy at me. I’m just curious,”

He looked at me, surprised. 

“You really did that for me?” he asked, shocked. I nodded, flicking channels like it was nothing. I’m not into big gushy emotional gestures really. 

“Yeah, you’re my brother, you deserve a bit of slack once in a while…plus she’s too big a character to need anyone’s help spreading her presence around,” I said, pretending to be fascinated in a late night infomercial. 

“So…where’s she from?” I asked, curious. 

“Canada, mountain town. She didn’t really wanna talk about it too much, I think she misses it…she talked a lot about her grandma and her ranch up there. They used to raise horses and go riding in the mountains,” he said, smiling to himself. “It sounded amazing…the way she talked about it was so passionate, she loved it up there,”

“What changed?”

“Parents, as far as I could tell. She didn’t wanna talk about it,”

“So what did you talk about?”

“Loadsa stuff…concerts and bands, comics…some stuff bout school, she was interested in why you and I are so different,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she was really interested in you,”

“Me?!”

“Yeah…I think she wanted to find out if you were trustworthy,”

“What?!”

“She’s a bit suspicious,”

“Of me?”

“Yeah” said Ger, like it was obvious. 

“Why me?”

“She said you were the alpha dog of the school, she needed to know if she could trust being near you,”

“I’m the alpha dog?”

“Well you are kinda, you’re the popular kid, you own the pack, blah blah blah,” Gerard skipped over that whole issue, the less we spoke of it the better it was. 

“She has to trust me to be near me?” I echoed, confused. There were factors that weren’t quite connecting here. Ger made it sound as if she thought she was too important or something to go anywhere near me. That she had a choice about how close she got. 

“Well, she’s gonna be here a lot, so I guess she wanted to figure out how different we are before I tell you more about her,”

“Great, I feel _so_ special,” I muttered sarcastically. “The last thing I want is your girlfriend stalking around me like I’m paparazzi, thanks very much, she’s not worth the social hassle of getting to know,”

“Harsh, Mikey, that’s not what’s bothering her, and she’s not my girlfriend,”

“Pussy – didn’t even have the guts to ask her out,”

Gerard didn’t say anything. 

“Fine, whatever, what is her problem?”

“She’s…got issues, problems, history – I don’t know if she feels safe being open about that with me if you’re gonna spread it through your little network,”

“Already said I refused to let the girls comment on her, she’s pretty much a no-go as far as bitching goes,” I said, annoyed. Gerard shrugged. 

“I’ll tell her…she’ll probably still be suspicious but I trust you,” he smiled. I fought the urge to curve my lips into a smile too, ignoring his twinkling eyes. The eyes of a brother are the hardest thing to be angry against. 

“And anyway, if something does get loose – she knows know to find you to kill you,”

“Very funny Gerard, like you’d let her,”

“Oh please, do you know how strong she is? I’d be able to do shit all!”

“What?! You lazy sod,”

“Oh come on…I’d help bury the body,”


	8. VIII

Magenta became a sort of shadow to me. 

Every day in school, I saw her in the corners, walking down adjacent corridors, slipping through doors. Her presence was silent and still scented with that carnal odour, but she seemed to avoid me during school. When I saw her and she didn’t see me she was aloof and proud of herself, she walked with her usual swagger and moved as if she knew she was untouchable. The girl had a bit of an ego. 

But when she saw me, she seemed to be gone seconds later, she plain avoided me. In science we sat next to each other and said nothing, not even in pair exercises. She answered when I spoke to her, but she never initiated conversation. 

All that wouldn’t have bothered me at all – like I needed the attention of a dreadlocked, stinking punk who never took off her sunglasses. But it bothered me because she was at my house a lot. Every day after school, she and Ger would stay after – her in detention which had become a daily thing, and Ger up in the art block. Even when I was holed up in my room with my music playing or out in the backyard, I could feel it when they got home – even if it was hours after they should’ve been home. The hairs on the back of my neck would bristle and my nose would twitch for that scent. 

That was seriously weird – I was growing attached to that smell. I didn’t enjoy it, but I didn’t hate it, it was like an itch you grow used to. I always sighed deeply when she entered out house. I could taste it on my tongue, the raw power she gave out. I didn’t like the power she seemed to have over guys – even me. She was stared at constantly, guys spoke to her just to just closer to that scent. Even guys who knew it was social suicide to chat up a girl like her. She even had sway over my dad, he was constantly baking and cooking things for her to try. 

He still ignored Gerard’s existence while he got Magenta and Gerard to stay in the kitchen well into the late afternoons, tasting and eating his cookies. 

But they always disappeared upstairs into Gerard’s room. Often for hours and hours, I never heard her leave but she was always gone when I went to Gerard’s room to say goodnight. I tried not to feel pissed that because they spent so much time together I couldn’t spend my time with Gerard anymore – like I needed to spend time with my freaky brother, it was doing wonders for my social life (not that I need much more of that).

Ok, I’m lying, I missed my brother. He was always way too preoccupied with that girl…

I got lucky a couple weeks after she arrived – she didn’t come home with him one day. I was sitting in the living room, watching cartoons, and Gerard came in alone. He sat down next to me and we just continued to watch until the cartoon was over. 

“Where’s Magenta?” I asked, not tearing my eyes away from the screen. 

“She told me she wasn’t feeling great, she’s gone home,” he said, sighing. 

“Home? Where bouts is that?”

“Um…no clue,” said Gerard, surprised. I glanced at him, he looked tired. 

“Long day?”

“Yeah, Frank woke me up early this morning,” he smirked, eyes growing distant. 

“What for?” I asked incredulously. Gerard’s tentative smile vanished.

“Nothing, he was bored,”

“Right…so you and Magenta then…” I said slowly, the clichéd ‘soooooo’. Gerard rolled his eyes. 

“What?”

“You two spend a lot of time alone in your room…how _do_ you fill the time?” I smirked. Gerard smacked my arm. 

“You’re a dirty one, Michael Way,”

“So I’m right?”

“No! We aren’t dating, you freak,”

“Huh? I thought you were crazy about her,”

“I was! But she’s a friend, she’s too…something to be a girlfriend, plus she’s too much of a mate to bother with that kinda stuff. She’s great, but she’s just one of my best friends,” he defended, shrugging and smiling. I recognised that smile. 

“Hey! Wait a minute…is there someone else?” I demanded, pointing at him. His eyes widened hysterically. 

“Say what now? No!”

“That was too fast to be true! Is there?!”

“No! Shit, Mikes, you scare the fuck outta me!” laughed Gerard, shaking his head free of my accusations. I giggled and looked back at the TV. 

“So…she’s ill tonight?”

“Yep, she said if I tried to find her while she looked as shit as she does, she’ll bite my head off,”

“Wow,”

“Empty threat,”

“Pissed off girl,”

“As usual,”

“Is she always angry?”

“Pretty much, she’s calmer around me and Frankie though, and Ray too,”

“Really? Her? Calm?”

“Ok, not really, but less aggressive – she’s…I don’t know what the word is, she’s loyal and matey, she rips the piss but she’s affectionate as well. She’s pretty damn awesome really, she’s a great friend,”

“Cool…hey…does she always wear those sunglasses?”

“Yep…I have actually _never_ seen her natural eye colour,”

“Seriously??”

“Yeah…it’s bloody weird. She refuses to take them off,”

“Try and take em off?”

“Yep,”

There was a short silence…

“She beat the shit outta you didn’t she?”

“Oh yeah,”

After dinner, Gerard hung back, keeping pace with me as I confidently walked up into his room. I figured now Magenta wasn’t over to take up his every second, I could take my place back in his other beanbag, get my old controller back. If she’s broken my highscore, I’ll kill her. Ok, I won’t, I’ll just steal it back. 

As soon as I walked in, I noticed something was different. The walls were still blackened and covered in doodles and drawings, the curtains drawn, the weird objects lying scattered on the shelves still there. The computer screen glowed in the corner, the bed rumpled and the clothes still lined what was meant to be a brown carpet…except there were differences. 

First, the didn’t smell like Gerard as much as it did- the teenage boy smell and the reek of pot and cigarettes was altered, it now smelt of Magenta…as well as pot and smoke. I could catch her scent gracing the bed covers, the beanbag, the window seat. Some of Gerard’s clothes smelt of her too. I wondered if I should’ve been suspicious of his claims they weren’t sleeping together, the pillows smelt like her hair. 

Secondly, there were photos. Gerard never put photos up on the walls, he hated pictures of himself. But now there were quite a few dotted about, mainly next to the computer, on the wall next to his bed. I looked closer, seeing Gerard, Magenta, Frank and Ray in them. They made faces and swore at the camera, Magenta especially, her trademark scowl and stuck out tongue resonant through them. 

I found myself smiling as I looked at one of her on Frank’s back, pinning him down and cheering at the camera, roaring. She was such a wild one, she didn’t seem as if she could ever be tamed. 

What a freak!

Thirdly, there was a charm over Gerard’s bed. Gerard may have been into some freaky arse kind of shit, vampires, occult, but he was more into blood, crime, murder and superheroes to go too far down that complete social suicide path of witchcraft. I knew every object in Gerard’s room, and most of it was geeky stuff, like his Sting sword from The Hobbit, and grandpa’s bat paperweight…but this charm was completely different. 

I noticed it straight away as I scanned the room looking for telltale signs of a sexual relationship Gerard was denying – maybe a bra, make up stains on the pillow, that kind of thing. It twinkled gently in the breeze caused the shutting door. Hopping onto Gerard’s rather grossly kept bed, I examined it. 

Made of some kind of matted dark brown hair around a spun orb of silver like wires, stuck with black feathers glazed with the blue green sheen of magpies. Three little wind chime pipes hung down from spun rainbow threads which looped through the silver, laced with beads and two silver charms – exactly like Magenta’s bracelets. A sun and a moon, hanging down either side of the wind charms. 

“Ok, what the fuck is this?” I demanded, pointing at it. 

“Don’t touch that, I think it has blood on it,”

“What the fuck?!”

“Magenta gave it to me…to protect me, she claims. She’s kinda superstitious, she gave one to all three of us,”

“What? Not me?”

“She doesn’t know you, Mikes,”

“So? I need protection,”

“Not the kind I think this one offers,” giggled Gerard. “Kim called _again_ ,”

“Ok – millionth time, Kim is going out with Max, the quarterback, I’m not dating any of my girlfriends, ok? I’m not interested in them like that,” I sighed, poking the charm so it spun around and caught the light. Either side of the sun and the moon had faces – one smiling and one grimacing. Charming.

“Whatever, pervert,” 

I hopped off the bed and yanked the controller off Gerard, determined to prove no one beat my brother’s arse better at Trekkan than his little brother! As we battled it out, conversation was difficult to keep going in between the swearing and cheering. As we fought it out, I noticed a picture on the wall next to Gerard’s computer, it made me double take. 

Mainly because it was Gerard and Frank leaning in to kiss each other, with Magenta peering over their heads, giving a cheesy thumbs up. I do _not_ wanna know the kind of stuff my freaky arse brother gets up to!

Hours later, after many video games, a few comics and a new horror movie Ray had lent Ger, my brother was half asleep in his bed, the movie’s end credits flickering across his pale face. I rolled my eyes and flicked the TV off, getting up to go to bed. It was nearly midnight and I had Science the next day.   

As I left, a photo caught my eye. It was just Magenta, a extreme close up of her face, lit up harshly by the flash and blurry around the edges. She was grinning, her mouth curved in a really amazing smirk – like she was laughing and swearing and blowing a kiss at the same time. Her eyes were still hidden by her sunglasses, but there were two bright shines on the smooth glass.

Not flashes from the camera, but white flashes. Like the kind you get when you shine a torch in a cat’s eyes. They shone out from her sunglasses and looked mental. I reached out and snagged it off the wall, glancing once back at Gerard before stealing her. 


	9. IX

Magenta was ill for three days, she didn’t come to school or to ours. Gerard seemed to miss her, he worried about her and repeatedly asked if he should go and check on her.  He didn’t though, in fear of what she might do to him. I mocked him mercilessly over it, that he was scared of a girl. 

But, then again, I wouldn’t want to piss her off either. 

Instead of Magenta’s presence in the house, I found Frank was there. Although his being there was a lot more fun than Magenta’s – he played video games with us and spent every other minute making jokes and playing the fool. He and Gerard were close from what I could tell, the jokes sparred between them never seemed to end. My jealousy only grew worse, but it least Frank made me feel included. 

“Hey, Mikey, wanna come to a concert with me and Gerard?” he asked me on the third day of Magenta’s illness. I was sitting on the floor, playing snap with Gerard as Frank sat at his computer. Frank’s jeans were rolled up to his knees and both of them were hooked over Gerard’s shoulders, resting either side of his body. He had those little foam dividers in between his toes and freshly drying blue nail polish. It would have been weird if Gerard and I hadn’t rolled our jeans up too and drying our own.  

“Which band?” I asked absentmindedly. 

“Bouncing Souls,”

“No way, they’re all…you know. Heavy and stuff. I’m not into that kind of music,” I dismissed. 

“You sure? Cos it’s a lot better than Britney Spears,”

Gerard snorted. I glared at Frank. 

“Hey! I do _not_ listen to Britney Spears,”

“Oh, sorry, Beyonce,”

“Or her,”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

“Um…no?”

“Gotcha! Told you it was one of those!” Gerard grinned at Frank over his shoulder. “Can’t tell them apart to be honest…”

“You’re such a liar Gerard, I heard you singing along to Beyonce in the art block at lunchtime! I bet you were shakin’ that lil tushie and everything!”

Gerard blushed. 

“I was not! And it wasn’t Beyonce, it was Black Eyed Peas,” defended Gerard, before gasping and covering his mouth. I burst out laughing.

“ _You_ listen to Black Eyed Peas?”

“No!” yelled Gerard, flushing crimson. “I just know one or two of their songs!”

“Bullshit, you love them!” giggled Frank, proving it by pulling up their music folder on Gerard’s screen, making me giggle until my ribs hurt. 

“Shut up Frank!” squealed Gerard, pushing Frank, pouting. Frank giggled and jumped up, _My Humps_ starting to play on the speakers. Gerard watched aghast as Frank started wriggling to the music, grinding his hips and bopping his butt, making faces and singing along to the bits he knew – I was laughing so hard my eyes watered as I lay on the floor, clutching my ribs. 

Every time I opened my eyes, I just saw Frank caressing his ‘lady lumps’ and hit the floor again. 

Frank tried to pull Gerard up to dance with him, but Gerard was laughing too hard to stand up. We had to calm down when Dad started pounding the floor with the broom, we were making too much noise. The only reason Dad wasn’t up the stairs and screwing his nut at Ger was because he knew I was up here…

“So where’s Maggie these days?” asked Frank as we all settled down to play X-men: rise of Apocalypse on the beanbags. 

“She’s still ill, and if you call her that she will kill you,” said Gerard, so serious I didn’t know whether to snigger or to blanch. I blanched. Frank looked bewildered. 

“Mags? Ill? Still? Kill? What is this madness?!”

Gerard chuckled at Frank, leaning over from the console to ruffle Frank’s fringe. 

“Shut up now,”

Frank pouted and looked at me. 

“Agree with me, Mikey, it is weird that she’s _still_ ill,” he said, trying to get me to agree. I chuckled at his manic grin. 

“I dunno, maybe…have you spoken to her?”

“No,”

“Why not?”

“She’s Magenta,”

“…And yet…?”

“She doesn’t like talking about how she’s feeling,” stated Frank, just I’d asked why it was a bad idea to jump off bridges.

“But she’s ill…”

“Yeah,”

“And you’re concerned,”

“Pretty much,”

“So why not ask?”

“Cos it’s Mags,”

“Yeah, it’s not pretty,” agreed Gerard absentmindedly, hacking up another high score. 

“Oh come on, she’s a chick, every chick loves it when their friends ring them – or visit – and are all concerned and supportive…and bring chocolate!”

Frank and Gerard looked at each other. Then burst out laughing. 

“This is Magenta we’re talking about…she’s so unlike a chick, she’s just missing a few valuable bits of equipment!”

I scoffed. “Oh please! She liked the rose, didn’t she Ger?”

“Not noticeably,”

“Oh. Wank,”

Frank looked at Gerard with his huge eyes. “What’s this about a rose?!”

Gerard smiled at him angelically.

“Mikey made me give Mags a rose…not my idea at all!”

Frank laughed. “I don’t find that hard to believe – every romantic gesture you make you have to research from HIM albums or chick flicks…you’re such a girl!

“Hey, Frank, Mean Girls is on!”

“OOOO!” 

 

 

 

Walking into school the next day, I noticed Magenta’s van parked on the side of the road, tucked badly out of sight. She’d been warned by the school not to park in front of it, on the verge, so she’d moved her parking space. Not that it looked any better but she didn’t get in as much trouble parking it there. 

I could hear steady rock beats leaking out of it, heavy drums or something. I don’t know – I don’t listen to rock and heavy metal! I looked into school, I was already late because I overslept and Gerard couldn’t afford to be late just to drive me. None of my friends were out, no one could see me. 

And it was obvious Magenta was still in her van, she never left her music on…I bit my lip. Half of me wanted to shake my head and walk away, it wasn’t my deal, she wasn’t my friend or someone I cared enough about to talk to. I didn’t care if she was ill or not, it was easier for me if she was ill…but the other half of me ignored logic and forced me to walk closer to her van. 

Part of me, a deep part, wanted to make sure she was ok…the way a pack looks after the wounded, lick the wounds, guard the sick and survive. The hairs on my body bristled as I got closer, her smell sizzled the air, her presence burning. 

I closed my eyes and felt my skin heating up, lungs breathing in deeply without meaning to. I touched the side of her van, the metal hot from the sun. I knocked three times. 

“Magenta?”

There was movement inside the van, and the music got turned off sharply. The silence echoed louder than the music. 

“Who is it?!” demanded her angry voice from inside. She sounded rough, tired and incredibly moody. She also sounded strange, high pitched. Her voice made my stomach clench – something was wrong. 

“Are you ok? What’s going on in there?” I demanded, trying the door handle. 

“I need Gerard,” she said through the muffling metal. She sounded weak, helpless. “Please,”

It was that –the please – that told me how serious this was. Magenta didn’t use her p’s and q’s and thank you’s _ever_. And now she was asking me almost nicely to do her a favour? 

“O-ok!” I stammered, backing up. Coldness passed through me, even though the sun still shone down in its summer ferocity. I dropped my bag next to her van and walked swiftly into school, the only rational part of my brain telling me not to run. I went straight to the art block, sweat broken across my body and trepidation gripping me. Even though I really didn’t like the girl…I didn’t hate her. And she was in trouble. 

“Gerard, quick, it’s Mags,” I said once I found him washing up at the sinks. He didn’t say anything, just followed me quickly, grabbing his bag on the way. We jogged back to the her van, me praying no one saw us from the windows. 

“Mags? Magenta?” called Gerard, banging on the door. “Let me in you freak! What’s wrong?” I could tell he was worried. The door lock clicked open and he pulled it free, leaving a gaping black hole into the van. The hot trapped air reeked of pot and smoke – and blood. It reeked of blood! Magenta slunk into the light piercing her van and I gaped. 


	10. X

“Mags! What the fuck happened to you?!” demanded Gerard, climbing into the van and forcing her to sit down on a beanbag. I glanced inside the van, my curiosity coming over me as my eyes grew adjusted. The inside of her van was blocked from light, a double seat at the back, with a tiny trunk behind it. The space between the seat and the front driver’s area had a shitty carpeting, beanbags and remnants of teenage living – cigarette butts, joint rizzlers, beercans crushed and take away. There was a sleeping bag on the back seats, covering several other items I didn’t want to investigate. 

“It’s nothin’,” grunted Magenta, wincing as Gerard tried to pull the huge jacket off her shoulders. She pulled it close around her and bent her head forward, dreads hiding her face. There was an angry gash on her neck, the only one she couldn’t quite cover up. Gerard touched the swollen skin. 

“Mags – what did this? Who? Talk to me!” he demanded, growing angry at her dismissal. She glared at him, scowling, then glanced at me. 

“Not here,” she said through gritted teeth. Gerard looked at me, then bent forward to talk in low voices with her. I caught snippets. 

“…did this to your….”

“…you know what…”

“…did you get…”

“No!” She sighed irritably and say back. “I have to get stitched up,” she sighed. 

“We can’t take you to hospital,” I frowned – why the fuck not? “So I guess I can do it…” Gerard said, gulping. Magenta shot him a half grin. 

“Cheers mate,”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Gerard said, aiming it at me. Magenta looked up at me.

“He’s coming?”

I bristled.   

“Mags, I told you, he’s fine, you have got to trust me on this,” he said in a low voice, crouching in front of her, his hands on both of her arms, making her wince. He drew back. She looked at me again, judging me. I felt a flare of anger at her arrogance, but I forgot it as she beckoned me forward. I took a few steps closer until I reached the lip of the van. She beckoned again and I entered the van, kneeling on the psychedelic carpeting. She reached out and took my hand, pulling it towards her face. I stared, aghast, as she sniffed the inside of my wrist. I couldn’t see where she was looking. I shuddered as she licked me, from excitement as much as surprise. 

She released me and I pulled back my hand a bit too fast. 

“Fine. Drive me back to yours,” she muttered. Gerard fidgeted – Dad was at home, asleep most likely, but easily woken. 

“Can’t we go to yours?” he asked tentatively. For a reason unbeknownst to me or Ger, she smirked. 

“Sorry, nope, has’ta be yours – let’s go…please,”

Once again, the magic word seemed to work. Gerard climbed out and pulled the door shut. He ushered me into the driver’s bit and I hopped into the passenger’s seat as Gerard found Magenta’s keys in the ignition and started her up. 

It was only about then I realised I hadn’t even considered leaving Gerard to clear up Magenta’s mess. But, by going with them, I was being let in on something big – I could tell. Although, thanks to my own stupid promise and rule, no one would ever know her secrets. Part of me bitched internally over this, the other side of me glowed with pride that I was trusted. 

When we reached home, Gerard sent me inside to check Dad wasn’t awake and to silently open doors up to his room. I did so, Dad was out like a light, and I waited for Gerard to come with Magenta by the front door. He did so slowly, carrying her half over his shoulders. Her legs seemed too weak for her to walk on, her face pale and sweating – she was really sick. 

We silently helped her up to his room, Gerard sending me to get water, rags and the sewing kit. I blanched at what he was suggesting. 

“What? Why can’t we take her to the hospital? It’s safer there – they have sterilised needles and stitching and stuff!” I said in a low voice. Magenta ignored us, sitting on Gerard’s bed, propped against the wall. Breathing seemed to take up all her attention, even though I could see her ears twitching.

Gerard glanced at her and pulled me aside. 

“We can’t take her there…ok? Just trust me on this, we can’t,”

“Why the fuck not?” I demanded, fingers tingling. Gerard bit his lip, his dark eyes narrowing. 

“It’s not my place to tell you…Magenta might if –“ He cut himself off, looking back at her. “Go get the stuff,”

Huffing, I went to go get what he asked for, going quickly and slowly. There was something very, very weird going on here and I wanted to know what it was. Returning to Gerard’s room, I found him talking to Magenta quietly and quickly, but when I entered they stopped. I felt a wave of anger rise in me. I shut the door and passed him the water, rags and sewing kit. 

“Ok, what the fuck is going on?” I demanded. Magenta looked up at me as Gerard evaded my eyes. No one said anything as Gerard helped Magenta pull her jacket off her arms, the material catching on the extensive wounds I wasn’t prepared to see. Deep, raw gouges criss-crossed her arms and shoulders and neck. They were caked with blood and pus, some healing badly. Her arms were covered in dry rivers of blood and her strappy seemed soaked in it too, more wounds on her back and stomach, one I hadn’t seen yet. I guessed there were more on her legs too. 

“Fuck,” muttered Gerard, looking over the wounds. “This is terrible,”

I gaped at them, speechless. “What the fuck happened to you?! We have to get you to a hospital!” I cried, lowering my voice as I remembered Dad. Magenta glared at me. 

“Fuck off – I’m not going,” she said moodily. 

“Mags, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Gerard softly. She looked at him. There was a short silence as something passed between them.

“You know I’ll be fine,” she said in a low voice. He didn’t look happy about it either, but he just shrugged and began to clean her sticky red arms, wiping away the blood. I felt a wave of nausea fill me, turning away and closing my eyes. I heard Magenta laugh at my squirminess, and then hiss in piss as the rough rags caught the ragged edges of her wounds. 

Feeling pathetic, I forced myself to turn around, watch Gerard wipe blood from magenta’s muscular arms. After a minute, the feeling left me and I found myself going to sit on her other side. I looked at the deep rips in her skin, in sets of four each time…like a wild animal. I shuddered and picked up a clean rag, squeezing the excess water out. 

Finally I was close enough to look at the ink she had on her skin. She carried a scorpion symbol on her neck, the tail flailing out to just under her ear. 

Magenta sat as still as stone as Gerard and I washed her arms free of blood, listening to the occasional whimper of pain she gave when the material caught on a sore gash. Once her arms were free, Gerard helped her pull off her top, leaving just her bra and her jeans. Her back wasn’t too bad, or her stomach, but she had a vicious cut across her chest, and one over her shoulder. There was also a deep puncture wound in her side. I began to clean that when she growled. The noise seemed so dangerous I withdrew. 

On her chest, right over her heart, she had a round circle surrounded by coloured circles. There was a symbol inside it – I didn’t know what it was but now wasn’t the time to find out.

“Hey, Mags, bite down,” offered Gerard, giving her a rolled up chunk of leather. She took it and bit down as we cleaned her wounds carefully, trying not to hurt her too much. The cut on her side bled as I cleaned it, staining the water pink. Gerard had finished her chest and shoulder as I held the rag to her side. 

“This one’s too deep, Ger, it won’t stop bleeding,” I said, breaking the silence. Magenta looked down at it. 

“Give me that,” she asked, taking the rag. She patted the wound with it gently, wiping off the surface blood before digging two of her fingers into it, hissing. I winced as she pushed her fingers up almost to the knuckle, rotating them, gouging at her side. 

“Mags!” whispered Gerard, obviously shocked. She grunted and withdrew them a bloody chunk of metal held between her two fingertips. She let it drop onto the bed and wiped her fingers clean. She winced horribly, growling deep in her throat as her fingers dug the balled up rag into the wound, stanching the blood flow, but at the cost of a lot of pain. 

“Shit,” muttered Gerard, looking at the deep wound in her side. 

“What the fuck was that?” I asked.

“Nothing, I’ll be fine. Stitch me up,” she ordered. 

“What about you legs?”

She leaned down, hissing in pain, and pulled her jeans up to her knees, showing us shallow cuts, that didn’t require stitching. Instead we cleaned off the blood. 

“Mags…this will hurt. A lot,” muttered Gerard, giving her the leather again. She saw him pick up a bottle of sterilising fluid and paled. I took her hands in mine and tried not to swear as she crushed them. The stinging fluid hurt like hell on the smallest of cuts…I shuddered to think of the pain inflicted from wounds these size. 

Tears dripped off her face onto our hands as Gerard finished. Her muffled screams were blocked by the leather bit, particularly when he dabbed it onto her side.     

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he did it, looking thoroughly sick of himself. When he was finished and she stopped wincing, she nodded fiercely. 

“Thank you,”

He waited until she began to breathe evenly again, for the muscles to relax in her arms, the tears to dry, and then picked up the needle and thread.

“Mikey…” he said, looking at me carefully. “You might wanna leave for this bit,” Magenta looked sick from the sight of the needle, threaded with thick black twine. I looked at her, touching her hand again. 

“Do you want me to stay? You can crush my hands again,” I offered. She looked at me – shocked. But she nodded, giving me a small smile. She did crush my hands, for at least half an hour as Gerard carefully pierced her skin over and over again to sew up the gashes on her arms, wiping away blood and pus as he went. She didn’t make a single noise, just stared at me as I held her hands and tried not to wince against her nails cutting into me. When he’d finished, he left the room and we heard him throwing up in the bathroom. Magenta gave me a nod. I knew I’d done it, by staying with her as Gerard stitched her up, I’d prove I was trustworthy. 

“Ok…so what is going on here?” I asked her gently as she gingerly tested her arms, lifting them up to tie her hair up and back, pulling one of Gerard’s t shirts on over her body. She sighed and pushed herself back to lean against the bedpost, arms resting at her sides. 

I moved to sit cross legged on the mattress, watching her softly. When Gerard came back, he looked pale and sick, taking a seat next to her, wiping the hot sweat off his face. She smiled at him loyally. 

“Ok, Mikey…I’m a werewolf,” 


	11. XI

My jaw hung open. “What?!”

“She’s a werewolf,” said Gerard, wiping his eyes free of ruined eyeliner. Magenta smirked. 

“You are joking,”

“No…I’m really not,” sighed Magenta, taking the two painkillers Gerard placed in her hand. I refused to believe it – werewolves and vampires and ghosts didn’t exist! I laughed at her. 

“Bullshit, this is complete bullshit! You’re messed up, girl!”

Gerard’s eyebrows raised as Magenta chuckled at me. “If I could feel my arms, I’d deck you for that,”

I stood up, shaking my head. “No way, you’re crazy, you’re just crazy!” I said. Gerard and Magenta exchanged looks. 

“He doesn’t believe you,” said Gerard softly. She shrugged. 

“No one ever does. Took you about half an hour,” she said, looking back towards me. I looked at Gerard. 

“You honestly don’t believe this shit, do you?” I asked, shocked. Gerard nodded. 

“Yeah, course…” he said, like it was obvious. “Frank and Ray know too,”

Magenta smirked and looked at Gerard, talking in a lower voice. 

“It smells like Frank in here, Gerard, what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” she asked, chuckling quietly. Gerard stuck his tongue at her. 

“You’re fault you couldn’t come out and play with – you and your wolf outs,” he teased gently. I waved my arms, still wanting an explanation. 

“You two are insane – you can’t honestly expect me to believe she’s a fuckin’ werewolf!” I cried. Gerard winced. 

“Lower your voice!” he hissed and I instantly shut my mouth. I believed Dad more than Magenta. She was watching me as I began to pace up and down. 

“You’re insane, you’re both fuckin’ crazy,” I muttered. 

“I can prove it to you,” she said softly. That made me stop. I looked at her and shook my head. 

“No way…you can’t be a werewolf, they don’t exist,”

She looked ferocious then. “Tell that to my parents,”

Those words rang a cold resonance through the room, I felt cold shivers run up my spine. Sighing, I sat down opposite Magenta and Gerard, once again wondering the strange partnership they had. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. 

“Ok…say that I did believe you thought you are a werewolf-“

“Don’t think, am,”

“Ok, that you are a werewolf…how would you prove it?” I asked, still sure this was some kind of amazing joke. Magenta looked down at her arms, the animal like claw marks…

“Holy shit – did you do those yourself?!” I cried, sitting up sharply. Both of them shushed me, glancing at the door. Magenta nodded. 

“Not on purpose,” she muttered. I gaped at the wounds, some still leaking blood. 

“You accidentally slashed up your arms?” I asked sceptically – no way, this reject was a total self harmer, said my bitchy brain. I ignored it. Magenta shook her head. 

“No,”

“So…you didn’t do it on purpose or by accident?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Magenta sighed. 

“I wasn’t really me when it happened,” she defended. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. Magenta sighed and looked at Gerard. 

“Mister Way, calendar please,”

Gerard jumped up and went over to the wall by his computer, pulling his Alex Pardee calendar off the wall and chucking it to me. 

“Look at the past three days,” sighed Magenta, letting Gerard sit behind her and pull her thick, long dreadlocks up off her back, twisting them into a heavy bun to keep them off her back and arms. Her hair was sticky with blood and reeked more than her clothes – she needed a wash, like fuck. I looked down and found my eyebrows raising. Gerard’s handwriting graced the last three boxes – full moon, full moon, full moon. 

“What the fuck?”

“I’ve been sick for the past three days – yeah?”

I nodded, looking up at her pasty white face, the stale sweat caught in her pores. The bags under her sunglasses. 

“For the last three nights, I’ve been going supersonic wolf mode, and the days between them are so shit I don’t leave the van…I usually lock myself in for those three days and let the worst happen,”

I scoffed. “No way…the full moon thing?” I asked, lip curling a bit. Magenta shrugged. 

“There’s always some truth in the legend,” 

I gave her a look, she was such a bullshitter. I might as well prove that to her and Gerard, there was no such thing as werewolves! I shook my head and hmphed. 

“Ok, then why so you have a bullet in you?” I demanded, pointing to the chuck of metal soaking blood into the duvet. Gerard was gonna have to get clean sheets, I didn’t wanna know what other stains were fermenting on them…

Magenta glanced down at the chunk of metal and picked it up, before popping in her mouth. Both Gerard and I winced. 

“You’re disgusting!” I moaned as she moved it around, sucking the metal clean. What the fuck was this girl on? She must be into drugs and all that kinda shit, to go get herself ripped up like that, shot, and then honestly expect people to believe it? She was probably up to her eyeballs on drugs and involved in enough dirty dealing to explain the smell. 

She spat it out, licking her lips and holding up the chunk. It steamed from her saliva, gentle wispy fumes threading from her mouth.   

“Fuck yourself, Way,” she smirked. “It’s a chunk of silver. It’s not a bullet. I put it in myself,”

“What?!” Gerard and I cried at the same time, jumping up. 

“Are you insane?!” I cried. Magenta shook her head, smiling almost whimsically. 

“No, I’m not, and no, I didn’t shoot myself, you morons,” 

I stared at her like she was crazy…which she was. Gerard opened his mouth but she held up her hands, wincing at her stitches stung. 

“Silver burns werewolves. It doesn’t hurt so much in human form, but as a wolf, it drives us crazy,”

“Oh, so now you think there are more of you?” I smirked. Magenta’s smirk vanished. 

“Fuck you, Way! Just look at me! This isn’t a fairytale I’m singing to you for attention or for kicks, I don’t need the trouble! Like I need more attention from anyone of my shitty life – especially the fucking alpha dog preppy prince of the school, ok? Like I need you running off and telling all your bitchy little followers what a fuck up I am, who thinks she’s a wolf and who’s parents ran off and who slices up her arms purely for the attention of people she doesn’t give a fuck about! I get the fact this is a lot to swallow, but I’m telling you the truth, got it?” she snarled, leaning forward and brandishing her sharp nails at me. I backed off. Looking at her, she did seem very canine…the nails, the hair, the smell, the attitude…

“Relax, Mags, Mikey promised he wasn’t gonna spread _anything_ ” said Gerard, giving me a pointed stare. I quickly nodded. Magenta hmphed, looking a bit surprised, really. I swallowed. 

“But…a werewolf?” I echoed, shaking my head. “It’s just so…unbelievable,” I sighed, unconvinced. Gerard shrugged. 

“It’s true…I didn’t believe her at first,”

“I’m not surprised, it’s not everyday someone tells you they’re a fucking werewolf,” I muttered darkly. Magenta frowned even more, if that was possible.

“You won’t believe me without prove, will you?” she said angrily. I shook my head. 

“Probably not,”

“Fine then,” she growled. “You want proof? Come nightfall – I’ll show you proof!”


	12. XII

We helped Magenta back to her van, she wasn’t in any state to go to school, and left some food for her. Walking back to school with Gerard, I stared down at my feet, trying to work out what the fuck had just happened. 

It sounded like madness – the new crazy girl tells us she’s a werewolf, and my brother buys it, and they both expect me to as well…

No wonder Ger brought it, I thought, sneaking a look at my brother, he’s obsessed with this kind of shit…

But she doesn’t strike me as the type to be too far into those old cult stories about Dracula and Frankenstein and werewolves, fairies and goblins and superheroes and supernatural, superhumans – that’s Gerard’s domain and his refuge. She was too real and gritty and fuck-it-all to bother with stuff like that…

And yet she’s telling me she _is_ a werewolf…where’s the logic?

Unless she _is_ a werewolf…

But that’s ridiculous! 

Is it?

Yes! A human can’t turn into a wolf! It goes against nature, science, religion – it’s impossible! 

How so?

The skeletal structures for once! How can her entire body change shape, her skin grow more hair, her face? It’s impossible!

It’s only impossible as far as we know…up to a few decades ago, we thought the atom was the smallest thing to ever exist – and hundreds of years before that we were certain the earth was flat. Now what?

So…you’re saying we just don’t know if it’s true yet?

More or less – where did the legends come from if werewolves are impossible feats of nature – the idea had to come from somewhere!

Well, if that’s the case, what about the rest of them? The vampires   - please please please – fairies, ghosts and all that stuff?

I don’t know, I’m just the other half of you!

Oh yeah…

So…we think it’s possible?

I guess…I mean, Gerard believes her, and I trust he’s sane enough…usually. 

Yeah, that and just look at her! She’s right, she really doesn’t need the kind of attention telling people you’re a werewolf will get. And where did she get all those disgusting cuts? Some of them were places she couldn’t reach normally, and she’s not the kind to self harm…

What if someone else did them?

She’s been in town barely a month, who the fuck would hate her so much as to cut her up that badly?

Um…

I mean, seriously, if someone _did_ hate her that much, why leave her alive? If she managed to even _glance_ at their face as they fucked her up, they’d be dead meat in seconds! 

Well-

And who’d have the balls to go up against her? No. No, there’s no way someone did those, she’s too strong and fucked up to let that happen to her without doing even more damage. 

So…what do we think?

No one else could’ve done that, not that anyone particularly would want to, and she wouldn’t do that, purposefully, to herself…so I guess…plus, they looked like claw-marks…so I guess she could’ve done them all wolfy…

I can’t believe we’re seriously considering the idea she can turn into a fucking wolf…

And why not? 

Ok – what about her parents?

What about them?

If she is a wolf, they must know!

That could be why she keeps moving around…

Fuck, if she is a wolf, what if she gets loose every so often and hurts someone? Maybe that’s why they keep moving!

Maybe…but we can’t assume anything, mainly cos Gerard and Magenta would kill us for it…maybe they leave when someone finds out about her…

There would be a lot of knowledgeable people in America…

Oh well. 

Man…this is just so weird! And what about her and Gerard? I refuse to believe there isn’t something going on between those two! He was crazy about her!

He still is, just differently by the looks of it. 

She gave him that charm thing! What was that about?

Ask him. 

I sighed at myself and looked up at Gerard. 

“Um…Ger?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that charm thing she gave you? To protect you?”

He looked a bit confused at first, and then his face cleared. 

“I knew you’d have a lot of questions about Mags you weren’t going give to her, but I was expecting something different,” he giggled, kicking a stone along the path. I shrugged. 

“Thought out most of the rest…”

“You believe her, then?”

“I don’t know yet…I’m leaning towards maybe, but I’m still sceptical,” 

Gerard nodded. “I’m not surprised, it took Ray weeks to believe her…Frank just kinda smiled and nodded, then when he realised we were serious he shrugged and asked her not to bite him again,” laughed Gerard, shaking his head fondly. My eyebrow rose. 

“Right…ok, so, the charm?”

“Oh yeah,” remembered Gerard “She made those for us, they protect us,”

“From what?”

“Her,”

“Oh…what’d she make them with?”

“Silver, feathers, her werewolf hair, charms and beads and some other stuff…and her blood,” listed Gerard. It grossed me out to be honest. 

“That all sounds like it’d attract her…”

“Apparently not, she swears it’ll keep us three safe if she ever did break loose during those three nights…”

“How?”

“I don’t know…but she swears it, so I believe her,”

“Gerard, why do you believe her?” I asked. “It’s just so insane!”

“I know it sounds it, but I do believe her Mikey…she’s proved it to all of us, but me and Frank didn’t need convincing – she’s a werewolf and it’s it…” he shrugged. I hmphed. 

“You only believe her because you’re in love with her,” I said, watching his reaction. He smirked.

“I don’t love her, Mikey, she’s my friend, that’s all,” he said, raising his eyebrows. I noticed a light tinge over his cheeks. 

“You’re blushing – there’s something you’re not telling me!” I accused, narrowing my eyes. Gerard’s eyes widened and he blushed even more. 

“Nothing!”

“Gerard Way!” I demanded, grabbing him and jumping on his back “Tell me!”

“Argh!” cried Gerard as he slipped and careened around the pavement, my hands over his hands as I giggled and clung on. “Get off me you crazy twat!”

“Tell me! Tell me who it is! Who you’re in love with!” I demanded as Gerard tripped over the verge and we hit the grass, me rolling on top of him and tickling him. “TELL!” I grinned, torturing him. 

“Alright! Alright!” he yelled, between hysterical laughter. I stopped tickling him, grinning in triumph as I hopped off him. “But you have to promise not to freak out!”

“I won’t – who is it?!” I demanded, intrigued. Gertard rubbed the back of his neck, picked at his shoes – fidgeted, avoiding my eyes. 

“Um…it’s Frank,”


	13. XIII

Kim knows me better than I probably know myself. Or, she did. That was one of the problems, as now she didn't know me as well as she used to, which meant I definitely didn't know myself as well as I used to. Or my brother, as it seemed. 

“What's up, Mikes? You've been quiet all lesson,” said Kim in a low voice, poking me in the ribs. “I don't like it,”

“Sorry...got a lot on my mind,” I shrugged, leaning my chin on my palms and resting my elbows on the table. Kim stared at me for a while, trying to work out my expression. As far as she knew, I didn't have a reason to be bummed, and my expression didn't read 'family issues' so she ended up stumped. So, instead, she moved closer and breathed into my ear. 

“Guess what I heard last night,” she grinned. I raised my eyebrows – I hadn't dipped my hand into gossip for weeks now, too preoccupied with Gerard and Magenta...but nevermind that. 

“What?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the teacher at the front of the class. 

“Frank Iero's gay,”

I tried to be surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah!” she told me triumphantly. “I know you said you didn't want anyone spreading anything about your brother or that girl he hangs around with – but this isn't about either of them, and it's true! I was there!” she grinned, seemingly over the moon she'd beaten my little rule. I decided not to get angry. 

“What do you mean, you were there?” I asked quietly. 

“I was sitting outside the library, waiting for Liz, and Iero and that fluffy guy he hangs around with walked past and I heard Iero say to fluff-head-”

“Ray,”

“Whatever, he said 'I can't, I'm going out with my boyfriend that night, sorry, no gang bangs'!” whispered Kim with barely concealed glee. “He's gay!”

I looked at her. “Good for him – so what?”

Part of me felt so hurt at Gerard's betrayal I wanted to crow Frank's sexuality to the world, really let my rusty gossiping skills go mental, but the other part of me, the winning side, stood by my brother and his boyfriend...it still sounded odd to me. But that didn't matter – Gerard told me he loved Frank, Frank obviously felt the same way. I was going to be supportive and protect both of them in my own way. 

Kim looked as if I'd sucked the wind out of her sails and capsized her. 

“So...he's gay! He has a boyfriend! And he's weird...hello? Michael Way in there?” she asked, completely confused by my non-interest. 

“Kim, we have shit loads of gay friends – so what if someone else is?”

“But...he's a weirdo, and we make fun of weirdos,” whined Kim. I shook my head.

“Not this time, Kim – he's friends with my brother so back off, you are not spreading that, ok? I don't care if it true, good for him, you are not going to spread that,” I said firmly. Kim looked as if I'd slapped her. She stood up quickly. 

“You bitch! How dare you tell me what to do – go to hell, Mikey Way!” she cried, before storing out of the room. Twenty sets of eyes landed on me as I stared at her quick exit. I slowly turned red, and noticed the person in front of me was smiling. Frank looked happier than I'd ever seen him. I nodded at him, a tiny jerk of my head, and looked up at the teacher. 

“Do you want me to get her back in here?” I offered, and then disappeared after Kim. I didn't plan on going to find her, she'd call me later that night and bitch at me for half an hour before getting over it and making friends again. I loved her, despite how predictable and bitchy she was sometimes. And I knew she wouldn't go against me and spread the word, she wouldn't dare. There were too many skeletons in her closet I was privy to for her to risk pissing me off. 

I wandered down the corridor, deciding to go hide in the library and read up on werewolves – I wanted to be better prepared next time I spoke to Magenta. I heard squeaks on the floor behind me, someone running down the corridor. I lazily sidestepped to stop being hit and found myself on the floor, someone crushing me in a hug from behind. 

“What the fuck?” I gasped, the air knocked out of me and my bag leaking contents onto the floor. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Frank's excitable voice made me chuckle as I pushed him off and stood up, offering the scruffy kid a hand. He was grinning fit to burst, looking like he wanted to hug me to death. Not a good idea. No matter how much I loved my brother, and Frank, my popularity at the moment could not deal with being hugged to death in the middle of a school corridor half way through 3 rd period by my brother's gay best friend/secret boyfriend.

“It's ok...I know the kind of shit they'd dredge up to torment you with...it's not fair,” I said, shrugging off his thanks. 

“You are the coolest,” grinned Frank “Gerard's so right about you,”

My chest swelled momentarily at the mention of my brother's praise. 

“I know you two are involved now...Gerard told me this morning, right after Magenta told me she's a...you know,”

Frank's grin dampened. “Wow...today's a bit of a revelation day for you then, isn't it? You ok?” he asked, his huge puppy dog eyes searching mine. I smiled softly. 

“I'll be ok...it's an adjustment, to say the least,” I chuckled gently. Frank nodded, then looked confused.

“Wait – which bit? Me and Ger, or Mags going all growly?”

“Um, Magenta. I'm ok with you and Gerard, I think it's kinda cool...he seems really into you,” I smiled, making Frank blush. I remembered earlier that day, Magenta had teased Gerard over Frank's scent on his bed, and Gerard complaining Frank had woke him up early in the mornings...my suspicious mind went mental with those ideas, and I decided I didn't need to know what my brother and Frank got up to in private. 

“He's a great guy...I really love him,” said Frank gently, smiling so warmly he seemed to swell with happiness. “So Mags spilled, did she? That's weird, she was so suspicious about telling you, she totally didn't trust your position,” mused Frank. 

“So I'm told – gee, I feel loved!” I muttered sarcastically as Frank and I sat down on the nearest bench, the sunlight warming us. 

“Relax, dude, you know what she's like, she doesn't trust anyone on spec...and you could see why she was dubious. I don't think she wants the entire school thinking she's a complete nutjob as well as a bit freaky,” giggled Frank, lowering his voice gently. 

“You think she's freaky?” I laughed. Frank shrugged. 

“No two ways about it – she's admitted it herself, she's a great freak though, we love her to bits,” smiled Frank “So what if she goes a bit canine every so often?”

I bit my lip. 

“She didn't look good this morning, Frank, I'm guessing the last three nights haven't been good for her...”

Frank's smile vanished. “She ok?”

I shrugged. “She said she'd heal up fine, but she didn't look good at all. Her arms and chest were all slashed up, she'd lost a lot of blood and she had a silver bullet in her side. We had to stitch her up and clean them all – it wasn't pretty,” I muttered, closing my eyes and clenching my stomach. The memory of the smell made me want to heave again. Frank looked sick himself. 

“She...she asked me to help her with that bullet thing,”

I sat up, closer to him “What?!”

“She couldn't do it herself...her hands kept shaking, she said...and she knew Gerard was too much of a sentimental pussy to do it, so she asked me...” he whispered, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. I swallowed. 

“What exactly did you do?”

“I...She asked me to push in this bullet...it had to be d-deep enough so it wouldn't fall out. S-she couldn't hold the bullet properly to put it in herself, her fingers kept burning...” he looked sick as he told me. I patted his shoulder. 

“It's ok...she's ok now, she's crashed out in the van in our driveway,” I told him, smirking. “I'm gonna go past KFC to pick her up something decent to eat,”

“That's cool, she loves chicken...I'd come with, but I've got detention-”

“Again,”

“Yeah, and mom needs me home for a while. I was coming over later tonight to chill with Gerard though, so I'll see her then if she's still alive,” giggled Frank weakly. I smiled. 

“Cool...should we get back to class?” I asked, eying the clock. Frank shook his head. 

“We're doing dissection – too gross to think about now. Let's go pull faces at Ger and Ray in Chemistry,”


	14. XIV

I walked home alone again, as Frank was in detention and Gerard went to art so he could walk most of the way home with him. At lunchtime, I'd eaten with my usual friends – Kim was stonily ignoring me, but everyone else wasn't – and then slipped away to see them in the art block. As soon as I arrived, I'd been smacked in the face with red paint – Frank and Ray were in the middle of a paint fight as Gerard tried to finish his painting. 

In the end, it looked much better, covered in splots and splashes of colours. I witnessed firsthand Gerard and Frank doing the Hollywood kiss, Gerard tipping the much shorter painted blue punk rock kid. It didn't freak me out, it was actually kinda sweet to see them being so tender and sweet together. They fit better than anyone I'd ever seen. Frank's head was exactly the right height to lean against Gerard's shoulder and fit into the gap between his shoulder and his neck. Gerard's arms were long enough to loop lazily around Frank's hip and hook into his belt loop or front pocket. Frank was exactly the right size for Gerard to wrap his arms around his shoulders from behind and bite Frank's ear. Gerard was exactly the right height for Frank to prop himself up on tiptoe and kiss his nose. 

It was adorable. It made my chest ache in a way I'd never really differenced before. 

The tenderness, the friendship and love between the two of them...there was comfort there I wouldn't find in any of the girls who threw themselves at me at parties or any of my gurlfriends. There didn't seem to be anyone for me, anyone who I wanted to seek out, just to be near them. 

Except for that smell...Magenta's smell. I sought that out any time I could, just to be nearer to her amazing presence, her power – that scent that attracted males like dogs on heat. 

Like I told Frank, I passed KFC and bought a bargain bucket for Mags, walking home fast as to dig in as soon as possible. Magenta's van was still parked in our driveway, and for once was silent. I knocked on the door. 

“Magenta? It's me, Mikey  - I brought chicken!”

It took a while, of me calling and knocking, for Magenta to rouse herself long enough to unlock the door and slide it open. I reeled back as hot, stale, reeking air hit me – the stench of dried blood and vomit stung my nostrils. I instantly wanted to throw up. I opened my eyes long enough to see Mags slumped on the floor, her face flushed and hair sticking to the sweating skin. Fresh blood leaked down her wrecked arms, and her jacket lay beneath her, covered in dark red vomit. She wasn't moving, her body steadily rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. 

“Mags!” I gasped, leaning in to touch her forehead. She was boiling hot and drenched in sweat droplets, shivering. She was sick, really sick. I dropped everything and climbed inside the reeking van, the smell only slightly abated by the fresh air from outside. I held my breath as I pulled Magenta up off the floor and propped her against the wall between the back of the van and the driver's pit. She groaned, her limbs unresponsive and her head lolling against the wall. I grabbed her face in my hands, blowing cool air over her blistering skin. 

“Mags!” I called, shaking her gently, trying to nudge her awake without getting punched in the face. She groaned and slowly flickered awake, her head holding itself up. 

“Fuck...” she moaned, coughing and spitting out the foul taste in her mouth. I looked through her dark sunglasses, trying to see the emotion in her eyes, but I couldn't. It was to dark and she turned away from me, screwing up her nose at the puddle of vomit on her jacket. “Fuck!”

“Relax, I'll shove it in the washing machine...come on, let's get you outta here,” I said, hopping out of the van and offering her my hands. She weakly tried to push herself up off the floor, swearing as her stitches strained. I moved her jacket out of the way and helped her get out of the van, supporting her with all my weight. 

“I'll put you in the shower, and I'll put your clothes in the washing machine, you can borrow some of mine or Gerard's til they're done. You can't sleep in here tonight, it stinks, you can crash at ours,” I said firmly, pulling her into the house. Her legs moved heavily, her head lent onto my shoulder. Even though her breath reeked, her hair still smelled of that scent I couldn't get enough of. I breathed deep without meaning to. 

Dad was still in his bedroom, I could hear the radio playing. I helped Mags into our bathroom quickly, helping her into the bathtub. 

“OK, I've done this a million times with my gurlfriends – I'll pull the curtain shut and you get undressed and pass me the clothes, ok?” I said, trying not to piss her off. She hmphed, rubbing weakly at her eyes under the sunglasses. 

“Like I give a fuck about that kinda stuff,” she muttered, before sitting up and pulling her strappy off. She threw it onto the floor and then unhooked her bra. Embarrassed, I looked down, at my feet, as she passed me the black lace bra. It was still warm. 

“Give me a hand,” she grunted. I glanced up and flushed crimson – she was lying topless in the bath, propped up on her sore elbows, her hips lifted so I could help her get her trousers off. I tried not to notice how perfect her breasts were. Still flaming red, I knelt down and tugged her belt free of the bat buckle, focusing on being helpful and fast, and not how smooth her skin was as I freed the button and unzipped them, pulling them down her legs. She relaxed with a sigh and I pulled her trousers off her long, lean legs. They were even more attractive than her tight trousers gave hint to. She freed her black girl boxers and shoved the bundle at me – her clothes were warm, and stunk of vomit, blood and her scent. I quickly turned the shower water on, got it to the right temperature whilst trying to ignore the naked girl in the tub, and left, shutting the door. 

“Thanks Mikey,” I heard her call and smiled to myself. Another image of her naked chest sprang to mind and I quickly went to shove her clothes, and her jacket, in the washing machine. I moved quickly, taking the forgotten food upstairs to Gerard's room and then back down to the kitchen. I found rags and cleaner, then went outside. I hate cleaning most days, but it didn't take me long to scrub the vomit out of the psychedelic carpet and I got as much of the blood out as possible – there was too much not the stain the multicoloured swirls with red. I wiped down the leather seats and took out the beanbags and throws. The beanbag covers and the throws and blankets, I'd wash, and the walls I scrubbed free of blood, but I couldn't do anything for the vicious claw marks scraping holes into the metal walls and roof. Under the backseat I found signs of life for Magenta. Books she'd read, CDs and tapes she listened to. Photos from all over the country, and postcards mapping out her journey. Clothes – multitudes of black and hippy coloured clothes, big skirts for summer and thick jackets for winter. Bloodstained hunting leather jacket from Canada, her dad's I guessed. A shotgun, and bullets. A big wallet stuffed full of cash. A medical kit, almost depleted, a sewing kit, an extra pair of boots, extra blankets and a pillow, emergency food. A broken down fishing rod, a box of soap and a hairbrush. She'd packed everything carefully away to withstand the full moon onslaught. I knew she kept a cooker in the boot, as well as a cooler to act as a fridge. The last thing, resting in the corner of the van, were two heavy pairs of manacles. Heavy duty handcuffs, meant to restrain her legs and arms, stop her doing too much damage...

Sickened by the idea she could get loose and hurt someone, I packed everything away quickly and opened up both sides of the van, bombing the inside of it were disinfectant air freshener, to solve the reek. I found the keys and locked the wheel, before heading inside again, dumping her throws and blankets in the basket to do away her clothes had finished. 

“Mags? You ok?” I asked through the bathroom door. 

“Yeah, come in,” she said gruffly. I slowly opened the door and walked in. She'd pulled the curtain to now, and all I could see was the silhouette of her body as she sat in the middle of the tub, washing her hair through in the stream of hot water. 

“I cleaned your van...it's gotta air out a bit and it should be fine,” I said, pulling the toilet lid down and sitting on it. 

“Cheers mate, you didn't have to, you know,” said Mags, surprised. “I was gonna do it later on,”

“You're in no condition to do that Mags, you're sick,”

“I'm fine!” she said hotly, pulling the curtain back sharply and turning the water off. I instantly looked down from the angry girl sitting in the bathtub, dripping water from her fanned out, waist length dreadlocks and still wearing those sunglasses. Her cuts stood out sharply in the white of the room and the cream of her skin. 

“Fine, whatever,” I stammered, embarrassed. She hmphed. 

“Pass me a towel...where'd you put that chicken?”

Typical her to want food so soon. 

“I put it in Gerard's room, he's not gonna be home for about an hour,”

“Or longer, he'll be walking home with Frank and they take ages...” Magenta muttered, smirking to herself. 

“Oh yeah, the five second step...” I giggled to myself, remembering watching couples walk home, only to stop every five seconds to make out for another ten minutes. Magenta looked up at me, surprised, wrapping the towel I'd handed her around her body. 

“Did Gerard finally tell you about him and -”

“Frank are dating, yeah, I know,”

“Good, he was spazzing over whether to tell you or not,” she muttered as she climbed out of the bath and flicked her dreads behind her, streaming warm water onto the floor. I kept my eyes lowered as I followed Mags up to Gerard’s room. 

“Why wouldn’t he?” I asked as we shut the door and Mags went over to Gerard’s washing basket, stealing his cleanest pair of boxer shorts and a t shirt, dropping the towel. I looked away again – only to find myself watching her in the mirror. Her body was simply amazing…

“Because you’re the school alpha dog. No matter how much he loves you or Frank, he doesn’t want any more teenage abuse,” Magenta said sharply. I frowned. 

“For fucks sake! Why is everyone assuming just because I’m popular I go around telling my friend’s secrets to keep myself that way?! You guys don’t seem to realise how insulting that is! I actually care about my brother! I stopped all my friends digging on you and him and Frank!” I yelled hotly, deeply offended. Magenta ignored me until she turned around, looking incredibly hot in my brother’s oddly fitting clothes. 

“Wow, how nice. I’m sure that makes up for all the times your ‘friends’ beat Gerard to a pulp and you turned a blind eye. You’ve done your best from where you are – I get that, whatever, but you can’t complain. You got yourself there, you worked to get yourself as popular as you are and now the only downfall is the ‘freaks’ of the school don’t trust you with their deepest, darkest secrets – what a fucking shock,”

She wasn’t impressed by my righteous indigence in any way. I hmphed as she turned away and grabbed the bucket of chicken. “Go into the bathroom and grab the bandages will you? I don’t wanna bleed all over Gerard’s bed,”

I don’t really get ordered around. I mean, you get ordered at school, and mom tells me to do stuff all the time (which I usually ignore) but none of my friends order me to do anything, I’m always asked nicely. It was a bit of a change to have this hugely stubborn, headstrong girl just assume I’ll do anything she asked. 

I realised how spoilt I sounded as I went to get the bandages. She was a completely different breed to me, she was a course werewolf who’d been through hell, transformations or not, and she didn’t care about social niceties or status or anything of that adolescent popularity shit I was so obsessed about. She was a lot more mature than I was, but at the same time she was a bit of a bitch, and arrogant enough to rattle me. 

And turn me on. 

 


	15. XV

When I got back, Magenta was already tearing into her second piece of chicken and curled up in Gerard’s bed. I have no clue if she looked at me as I entered, until the hairs rose briefly on the back of my neck – she had, I knew it. Even with those shades on, she’d looked at me long enough for my body to feel it. I gulped and handed her the bandages. 

“Cheers, sit down,” she said as I hovered uncertainly. She’d moved to give me half the bed to slide into it, but I was still uneasy. 

“Relax, clean sheets – for once,” smirked Magenta and I got in. I found the remote and started to flip through channels on Gerard’s shitty little TV as Magenta began to scrutinise all her wounds whilst eating at the same time – a multitasking marvel.

“How are they?” I asked after debating with myself for a while, glancing sideways at her. My body was buzzing from the heat she gave off, my lungs breathing deep to get more of her smell. Seriously, it was intoxicating. 

She didn’t look up. 

“Fine…starting to heal up ok,”

She bent over the side of the bed, rummaging underneath it. I glanced over, confused, and looked away quickly – her arse was too amazing to even look near without fearing for my life. What the fuck was she doing?

“There’s nothing under there except porn mags and condom wrappers – what are you looking for?” I asked, confused. She didn’t reply, but sat back up, pulling a black box with her. 

“I left this here last time for safe keeping,” she muttered, opening it up and taking more chicken. Inside it looked like a normal sewing box, except for a roll of silver, feather, clumps of hair and beads. 

“What’s it for?” I asked, distracted from the TV. She looked up, at the charm hanging over Gerard’s bed. 

“It’s the stuff I need to make those,” she said. “I’m making one for you,” she said gruffly, avoiding my eyes. I found myself grinning. 

“Really?” I asked, excited. I know I said I didn’t believe it before, but it was the gesture really – she trusted me enough, she’d almost befriended me. I remembered my other friends, Kim, Josh, the rest of them…what would they say? What would they think? I didn’t even see the point in telling them, they’d never understand. When I was with Gerard and Magenta and Frank, I was a lot more free than with my girlfriends. 

I was a lot more real. 

Magenta looked at me, caught off guard. 

“You sound really…happy,” she said, confused. I blushed and averted my eyes from her sunglasses. 

“Well…I guess I kinda am – you ‘freaks’ mean a lot to me and this kinda shows…I’m not as bad as you’re making out I am,” I said, staring at the duvet, flaming red. She kept staring at me. There was a short silence. 

“I knew you weren’t that bad,” she said eventually. I looked up. 

“You did? But you made such a fuss,”

She shrugged. “Well, I could’ve been wrong. Remember in detention, a long time ago, I sniffed you and said you were ok?”

I nodded – of course I did! 

“You didn’t smell like a wanker, you smelt honest,” she shrugged, looking at the box and pulling the silver out, reaching for some scissors to cut the thick wire loose. I smiled to myself – I knew I was an ok guy under all the backstabby, bitching bullshit at school. “But you still weren’t squeaky clean,”

Dammit. 

“But that’s ok, cos none of us is – I’m wanted in five states for fuck’s sake,” chuckled Magenta, beginning to coil the silver round in a ball shape, bending it with her strong fingers, reaching to plait hair into it – I guessed it was hers, it smelt like her. Nothing seemed like gross once you’d helped sew up someone’s arms…and their blood soaked van. 

“You are?!”

She nodded. “Circumstances causing accidents…”

“Werewolfness?” I asked. She nodded. 

“What is the deal with that? I’m still confused,”

“But you believe me,”

She looked at me. I stared back, through her sunglasses. I saw the flash in her eyes, the canine beneath the girl. The loyal, honest, simple streak within her. She wasn’t lying to me. I nodded. 

“I believe you,”

I got a real smile – and I felt my chest grow warm. 

“Ok, I’ll tell you,” she said, the smile fading as she went back to making the charm, interweaving the wires and the hair, beginning to add the black feathers. “Ask anything,”

“Ok... firstly, how does this charm work? And your bracelets?” I asked, curiosity finally winning and questions springing to mind. I went one at a time. 

“I don’t know exactly how, it’s a combination of the silver with the essence of human or something...my mom showed me how to before she-“ she cut herself off “The charms are meant to be magic, but I don’t really believe in magic,” she shrugged, showing me the moon charm from her woven beaded bracelet. “The sun and the moon are the two elements of a werewolf –night and day. The beads are just decoration,”

“Why do you wear them?”

“The silver acts as a safety net – they keep me from losing my temper during the day and help me keep control in the nighttime, when the moon shines. It stings at night, keeps me rooted,” she tried to explain, keeping her attention on the charm taking shape in her bruised hands. Next she attached the wind chimes. 

“Ok...that makes sense, I guess,” I said, mostly to myself. “What about your sunglasses?”

Magenta sighed – she obviously hated that question. “My eyes are the only part of me that can’t pass for human,” she said quietly. “My nails, my hair – that can all be passed as abnormal but still normal. My eyes...can’t be,”

“Why not?”

“They just can’t – next question,”

I swallowed – I was far too aware of Magenta’s mood swings. 

“How did you become a werewolf?” I asked, taking the plunge. Magenta took her time answering, fixing the wind chimes in place with black twine. 

“I was born this way. I’m different to what you think though. My dad –“ she stopped and I saw her forehead furrow – this was difficult to talk about obviously. Everyone had family issues, I sympathized.

“He was born of two wolves too – a Pure Blood. Mom was a Bitten, she agreed to be bitten by my dad so they could be Bound, the same as being married I guess. That was until I was 13...Dad left and Mom followed,” she said quietly and quickly. 

“You were abandoned?” I breathed, shocked. She nodded, shrugging it off. 

“I was a vicious pup, pure bloods always are, and I proved out fine,” she said firmly. She was dismissively of the idea her parents abandoned her. I decided that was one wound she didn’t want anyone tending. 

“What’s the difference between Pure Bloods and Bittens?” I asked, changing the subject. Magenta cracked her knuckles, delving into the box for the sun and moon charms, scooping up a handful of coloured beads. 

“A Bitten is a human turned wolf by a bite to the back of the neck. A Pure Blood is a pup born of two mated wolves, and we’re a fucking handful,” she sighed. I looked over her arms and body, seeing the faint scars, the history on her skin. 

“How?”

“A Bitten only turns wolf at full moon and the two nights surrounding it, they’re calmer and cope better during the nighttime. Pure Bloods can turn wolf every night the moon shines – and have no choice during full moon. The blood lust in us is way worse, the aggression too. And in human form, we carry a few oddities – like really long, fast growing hair and nails...and our eyes,” I still wanted to know exactly why I couldn’t see them, my curiosity was killing me. “We heal much faster than both humans and Bittens – you won’t find any visible scars older than a month,” she finished reciting, threading beads onto the wire and in between the hair netted through the orb – it was a lot neater than Gerard’s one.

“Wow...” I whispered, impressed. Even the scar tissue disappeared. Magenta held up her nails, the tips sharp and blackened. 

“If I cut them, they’ll be the same length they are now in one day,” she said, and my eyebrows shot up – that was fast! They were bloody long. 

“What else?” I asked curiously.     

“Our metabolism and muscle structure. I don’t like going to hospitals because I’m so medically bizarre – my heart’s much bigger than it’s meant to be, and in the wrong place, I’ve got a different bone structure, my muscles are connected differently, a cross over between a wolf and a human – makes the change less painful,” she told me, causing my eyes to look over her, looking to oddities. “I eat junk food and smoke and drink myself into oblivion but my body’s pure muscle and my senses are as sharp as fuck…there a some white coated wackos out there who’d love to get their hands on me,” she smirked. I absorbed all that, thinking how lucky she was on one level. 

“Ok, wait,” I said “You turn into a wolf every night?” 

She shook her head, scowling at the idea. 

“I _can_ every night the moon shines, and on the new moon I’m weaker but I stay in control, I can’t turn wolf that night. Every other night from new moon and the full moon nights, I can choose to stay human or run wild,”

“Here?!”

“No – too many people, too dangerous,” she shrugged. 

“You want to?”

She nodded. “I want to be somewhere more than anything where I can run free and safe every night,” she sighed. 

“But…last night, and the two before,”

“I locked myself in the van, chained myself up, and used that,” she said, pointing to the silver bullet on Gerard’s bedside table. “To keep myself occupied, I guess, so I didn’t trash out my van too much,” she sighed. 

“D-Do…do you live in the van?” I asked, feeling like a complete twat. She gave me an evil look. I’d put two and two together – all the stuff she needed to survive in her van, the fact she was _always_ in it, she didn’t seem to have another home – and then I found out her parents left her…

“Yes,” she said in a hostile voice. 

“How long?” I asked after a pause. 

“Three years. I spent my first year alone busking through Canada, got a van and been going through America since,” she muttered, licking a tail of blood off her wrist and transferring it to the charm. I winced.

“Why?”

“I’m looking for my parents,” she said quietly, avoiding my eyes. There was something about the way she said it, the way she sat awkwardly. I could see by the way her neck tinged, the way she shuffled her hands, she was lying and she didn’t like it. 

“Oh,”

“Ask her why,”

I jumped, but Magenta didn’t even look up. Gerard was standing in the doorway, his face pink for rushing back. He must’ve cut his usual after school art session early to get here. I wondered if Frank knew. I looked between them, Gerard’s silent accusation and Magenta’s growing defensiveness.  

“What is it?” I asked. 

“Nothing,” muttered Mags, giving Gerard a look as he crossed the room and sat down on the foot of the bed opposite her. 

“Mags wants to kill her Dad,” he said, ignoring her. Mags decked him. 


	16. XVI

I bit back swear words as Gerard let loose, hitting the floor. She’d punched him faster than I could have spotted. 

“Fuck! Mags!” he groaned, standing up and rubbing his bruised eye. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. He cursed under his breath, going towards the door in search of ice to calm the swelling. Magenta swore, rubbing her head. 

“My temper’s so crappy, I can’t control shit like that,” she told me, looking vaguely guilty.

“Why do you wanna kill your Dad?” I asked gently. Mags stood up, leaving the almost finished charm on the bed and going over the window. 

“He’s a murderer,” 

The cold shivered through the room, travelling back my spine. “What?!”

“I lied before – my mom didn’t follow my dad…H-he killed her and ran,” she hissed, pain evident in her voice. 

“As a wolf?” I gasped. She shook her wild, ragged hair. 

“As a human,”

“Fuck!”

“I’ve been tracking him through America…education’s not been easy to keep up with when you’re moving every three weeks,”

“Three weeks?”

“He covers a lot of ground during full moon, and he doesn’t seem to know I’m after him,”

“So…your dad’s here? Now?” I asked, feeling panic rise in me. She nodded. 

“I caught up to him outside New Jersey, did enough damage to slow him down, root him here for a while. Long enough to find the son of a bitch and slit his throat,”

I gulped – she only became more terrifying in my eyes. She turned back to me. 

“What’s up?”

My eyes widened. “What’s up? I can’t believe you’re actually planning on killing your dad!” I said. It sounded so unreal! She walked closer, scowling. 

“I saw what he did to my Mom. I was stuck in the kitchen closet for hours and hours as he beat her until she was raw and finally killed her and ran. I saw what he did to her, what he was capable of. The world’s off better without someone like him,” she hissed. I shook so hard the bed seemed to shake with me. Graphic images sprung to mind. I just stared back into her blank hidden eyes. Then she gave a stifled smile. 

“I’m bored – wanna play Soul Caliber?” 

 

When Gerard returned to find Magenta whooping my arse at Soul Caliber, a lot of stuff was left up in the air. She apologised, kinda, for hitting him and he didn’t have much choice but to get over himself. 

“Where’s Frank?” I asked when he grudgingly sat down next to us. 

“At home,”

“I thought he had detention,”

“He did,”

“But –“

“I busted him outta it so we could go home together and I could back here to make sure this girl was ok,” muttered Gerard, glaring at Magenta who was concentrating on the screen and growling as I beat her. 

“Oh, right…what time’s lover boy coming over?” I asked, chuckling as Gerard went several shades of poof pink. 

“Half 8 ish, he said,” Gerard told me, ignoring my grin. 

“Cool cool…so do you wanna us to vacate or what?” I asked – forcing him to become uncomfortable. 

“Frank’s bringing movies, so we’ll just chill and then we’ll kick you out,” giggled Magenta. 

“You’ll kick _us_ out?” laughed Gerard. “No way, missy, you two are getting shoved out, you can do what you please!”

“Ooo, Gerard and Frankie want their special time!” I laughed, teasing him. He swiped at me, slapping my arm. 

“Shut up Skinny! Mags, you can’t sleep in that van tonight, it still reeks of blood, you can crash in Mikey’s room, he’s got a good bed and he can crash on the couch,” offered Gerard. 

“Hey!” I yelled indignantly. “You can’t just offer out my st- how do you know how good my bed is?!”

“Frank liked it too,”

Gerard grinned wickedly at me and Magenta cracked up. “You sick son of a bitch!”

“Gerard! That is so gross!” I gasped. “I can’t believe you had _sex_ on my bed!!”

Gerard laughed. “We didn’t! We just bounced on it until Frank hit his head!”

“Oh…”

“So you ok with crashing in Mikey’s room?” asked Gerard a minute later, in which Magenta wiped the floor with my last character, officially owning me. 

“I was just gonna ignore you and sleep in the van,” muttered Mags, looking at Gerard and avoiding my eyes. 

“No way Mags, that thing still reeks of blood and puke, it’ll be ok by tomorrow though – just chill here,” said Gerard firmly. I sighed. I agreed, even though I didn’t wanna give up my bed. 

“I dunno…I get pretty jumpy at night,” Mags said uncomfortably. “It’s the first night after full moon and I wanted to wolf out to speed up healing,”

“Whoa! I don’t wanna sleep in the same room as a wolf!” I cried, jumping up. Gerard groaned and rolled his eyes. 

“Jeesh, calm down! Mags, stay human for tonight, crash out, I’m sure it’ll be fine! Tomorrow you can do your van thing,”

Magenta swore under her breath. 

“You’re not gonna budge are you?” she growled. Gerard shook his head. 

“You’re still sick, you’re staying here,” he said firmly. “Hand over your van keys,”

“What?!”

“I know you – you’re planning on locking yourself up as soon as we kick you out,” smirked Ger. “Gimme,”

Magenta swore again. “Mikey’s got em,”

I handed them over to Gerard who, smiling at his own little victory, picked up the controllers and eventually got massacred by Magenta’s anger.

 

The horror film Frank brought failed to scare either me or Magenta. I knew Gerard wasn’t scared either, but he was pretending to be so Frank wouldn’t feel so silly when he jumped and cowering in Gerard’s arm every few minutes. 

“Oh, come on Frank, it was funny when that mutant was raping her!”

Frank whimpered and hid his face in Gerard’s duvet, wrapped up in my brother’s arms already.

“We can turn it off if you want, baby,” he offered sweetly. Magenta made a noise. 

“I’m watching this!”

“It’s ok,” said Frank, even though it was obvious if Mags was watching it, it wasn’t going off until the show was over. “At least it’s not Saw again…” he said, turning green. I didn’t have to ask. 

I sat in the middle of the bed, with Mags on one side with her arms freshly bandaged, and the couple on the other side. I was totally on edge. It wasn’t because I was freaked at Gerard or Frank, but because Magenta was just there. 

It wasn’t the fact she was a girl, and a hot girl, but it was the fact she wasn’t really real. She’d just become way more exciting and dangerous than anything a normal suburban highschool could kick out. I mean…a werewolf! I was used to being infatuated with the idea of vampires, but she was something else completely. 

You couldn’t really imagine a vampire snuggling up and chilling out with you, or getting down and dirty, or just having a laugh. They were straight laced, black clad gothic wardens of night, drinkers of blood, pure class and sophistication (SHORTY). Magenta wasn’t anything like that. 

She was pure fun, with a wicked streak. 

To be honest, my main problem was her scent. I’ve explained it before – it draws guys in. Maybe it’s a female wolf thing, like pheromones. It’s so human, yet tinged with a musky canine smell, like a warm dog you used to have as a kid and the smell just takes you back to somewhere safe and happy.

“Mikey, stop sniffing me – it’s fuckin’ creepy!”


	17. XVII

Magenta sat on my bed, irritably rubbing at her wrists from where they jutted out under the bandaging. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable she felt, but seeing her wriggle out of the corner of my eye didn’t help. Especially since she was wearing boxer shorts and a big t shirt. 

I sighed and picked a comic off the huge pile, tossing it onto the bed. 

“Quit it and read,” I sighed, going over to the radio and flicking it on softly, before crashing on the couch with my sleeping bag and another comic.

“I can’t concentrate on this,” muttered Magenta after a few pages, putting the book down and getting off the bed, padding over to my DVD collection. 

“What’s up?” I asked, noticing her agitation. She paced the room like a confined animal. The look she gave me made my blood run cold. 

“I don’t like it, it’s uncomfortable,” she said, a bit weakly after such a withering glare. 

“What, exactly? The wounds?” I asked, wondering if I should offer some more painkillers, or some alcohol or something. She shook her head. The nodded. Then shook it again, dreads whisking back and forth. 

“Just…the wounds hurt, and itch, and this room makes me feel uncomfortable because it’s bright and held in and there are other people nearby – I feel trapped,”

“Isn’t your van smaller?” I asked, getting up and going over to the light switch. Soon only the spill of light from the computer lit us up.

“That’s not the point, my van’s more like a hole I curl up in, this isn’t familiar, this doesn’t feel safe for me. And I know I’ll heal better as a wolf…” she groaned, rubbing the side of her head. “My head’s going crazy tonight,”

“Because of the room? Cos we can go outside for a bit if you want,” 

She shook her head. 

“If I see the moon, smell the air, I’ll change and run for it…” she moaned, leaning forward to hold her head together. She groaned again and flopped back onto the bed, burying her face in the quilt. I heard her sigh and breathe deeply – it seemed to calm her. 

“You…you know the change?” I asked, watching her lie there, trying not to focus on the fact there was a girl on my bed. “What’s it like?”

She looked up. “Wasn’t I going to show you?”

“Well…yeah, but I don’t think it’ll be a good idea right now. I don’t wanna spend the night in the same room as a wolf,” I shrugged. Mags shook her head. 

“As a wolf, other than full moon, I’m usually ok, I can control it enough. As a human, my temper’s terrible, but as a wolf, it’s the opposite, my loyal streak, my _friendliness_ gets the best of me, if only with people I recognise the scent of and usually only for the nights after the full moon – the nights leading up to it I get restless and worse – I’m a proper werewolf. But I’m so…restless, I won’t be able to settle,” she sighed, not looking at me. “God, I wanna go curl up in my van…or even run free,” she sighed. 

“You can’t – there are too many people, you’ll hurt someone or be seen,”

She shook her head. 

“I won’t hurt anyone. I hope. I wouldn’t be seen…but I can’t tonight, I’ll run too far, lose myself and wake up tomorrow, naked, in the middle of the woods, again,”

I couldn’t help it – I laughed.

“I’m sorry, but the idea of you waking up naked in the woods and swearing your head off wildly amuses me,”

Magenta stared at me until I quickly stopped laughing – then cracked a grin. 

“It was pretty funny,”

I smiled back. 

“So…what is the change like?”

Magenta sat up, curling her legs under her. “I dunno how to describe it…it’s…it’s painful in someways, but releasing in others. Like breaking out of a sack bound with ropes – it hurts, but you can breathe,”

I nodded, sorta understanding what she meant, but she wasn’t satisfied. 

“When I change…I stare at the moon, and I feel…things just kinda move by themselves unless I hold them back. My skin feels like it’s just a bag covering fur instead of real skin – it doesn’t really hurt when it peels off me. My bones…it’s kinda like they disconnect and pop back into place all over – that really hurts. I get all hot and itchy and crazy during the change – I go mental until it’s complete and all that’s left is discarded skin and clothes…and I’m no longer me, I’m it – the wolf. It’s…it’s everything life seems to miss,” she sighed. 

As grossed out by the image she just painted as I was, I was still curious – when she talked about it, her voice took on a wistful, almost whimsical tone. She was breathless, excited – almost girlish about it. I could see she was in love with the more feral side of her nature, she adored it. 

“What do you mean?” I asked gently, not breaking the soft spell she was weaving. 

“As a wolf, my senses are so much sharper, even then they are now. I can smell everything, taste it on my tongue. I can see things differently, like a hunter. There’s nothing but the hunt, the pack, the kill – the wolf! I don’t care about friends or my dad or bitchy girls at school or anything, I’m just…free, wild and powerful…there’s nothing like killing your own food with as much ease as snapping your fingers,” she whispered, her hushed voice betraying her deep flowing excitement. I smiled, even if the idea repulsed me. 

“You’re so…freaky and wonderful – you have no idea how happy you look right now,” I said before I could check my words. Magenta stiffened. 

“I’m not,”

“Not happy? You look it,” I said, whilst my head told me to shut it for my own safety. Magenta didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not happy…here, like this. I’m…restless and itchy and I’m so tired and overheated and…I hate this, I’m so cooped up. This isn’t good!” she groaned. There was something else bothering her. 

“Mags? What is it?”

She avoided my eyes, sitting on the bed and letting her shoulders droop. 

“Sometimes…sometimes, I feel like the animal is winning,”

“What?”

“I think I’m losing control…”


	18. XVIII

Eventually I fell asleep. Magenta and I talked quietly for what seemed hours. She seemed so bitchy and rude on the surface, a walking, talking, biting, kicking, screaming nutcase. But underneath she was normal, if a bit crazy. She was a lot of fun actually, if a bit hostile and blunt. She told me exactly where to stick He man and Iron Man and ‘all those motherfuckin’ pussy superhero bullshitters they tried to make you swallow’. She approved far more of the mutants like Wolverine and Gambit. 

When I finally told her to shut up and go to sleep, she tossed and turned and fidgeted – the bed springs drove me crazy. Wasn’t just hers either, Gerard’s were going pretty solidly too, goddamn. After an hour of blocking my ears with my MP3, Magenta got up, took the duvet and the sheets and pillows off the bed and made herself a nest on the floor, winding them around her and curling up. She was so tired she didn’t noticed how she curled her hands up to her face, like a dozing cat did, or that her foot twitched like a dog dreaming of chasing rabbits.      

I watched her sleep, even though it was kinda pervy. She’d taken her sunglasses off in the darkness, but her face (even with her eyes closed) looked a lot different without them. Her hair was pulled back in a lazy man ponytail, and her profile could be seen next to her bunched hands. She was still scowling, did she never stop? 

She seemed a lot younger, a lot less hostile without the big sunglasses on. I thought back to the photo, the reflective lights coming from under them. What kind of eyes did she have? I wanted to know so badly!

The worst part of the night came when I was so close to sleep it wasn’t funny. My eyes drifted to rest of her hands in front of her face. Only, they’d changed. The fingers were longer somehow, and connected further down at the second knuckle, leaving oddly shaped and…furry pawlike hands, the nails crowning them with black, sharp claws. 

They still looked human, but they weren’t. 

It scared me so much I rolled over and tired so hard to get to sleep I think I passed out from exhaustion. When  I woke up, I got a shock. Magenta was awake again and her hands were normal again. She was sitting on the windowsill just above me, her slender leg lilted over the side to rest on the back of the couch. She was staring at the rising sun, hands bunched in her large t shirt. She didn’t look at me, she’d put her sunglasses back on. 

“Morning,” she grunted. 

“Morning,” I replied, sitting up. “Sleep well?”

“No,”

“Fair enough,”

I looked over at the clock – it was 4 in the morning. Far too early to deal with someone as unstable as Magenta. I groaned and lay back down on the couch, bundling myself back up in my duvet. She looked down at me. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“No clue – I never sleep well with company,”

“Neither do Gerard or Frank apparently,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the heavens. I looked up, and realised I could hear soft groans through the ceiling. 

“It’s a ridiculous time in the morning and they’re at it? Again?! Dear Lord!”

Magenta chuckled. “Teenage sex drive- amazing thing,”

I smirked. “If only we could harness its energy we wouldn’t need any other form of fuel!”

Magenta chuckled again and wriggled off the sill, stepping over me easily and going to sit back on the bed. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and noticed her tattoo again, the symbol over her heart. 

“What does that mean?” I asked, gesturing to it. She looked down where the t shirt she wore gaped open far enough to show it. 

“It’s another one of those mystical things, like my bracelets…it’s a Dragon Egg – fire inside, restrained power, blah blah blah,” she shrugged. I remembered the twisted little shape inside the circle – I could see the dragon in my head. Magenta looked up at me again, biting her lip. 

“Did…Did I …change slightly last night?”

I looked over at her and nodded. “Your hands did, a bit,”

“Fuck wank,”

I giggled stupidly at her use of words. She liked stringing together insults from random swear words. 

“It’s ok though, it wasn’t that badly noticeable…and I’m definitely a believer now,” I said, looking up at the charm over my bed. Mags hmphed. 

“Whatever dude,”

Her hostility took me aback. “Are…Are you always this harsh?”

Her eyebrow raised. “Harsh?”

“You know – touchy, bitchy, mean,”

“You think I’m mean?” she echoed. She sounded surprised, almost hurt. 

“Well…I…” I stammered. I didn’t feel scared, like she was gonna hurt me, or yell at me for calling her mean, but I felt awkward. It’s always awkward telling anyone they’re not the best person ever. “You’re not the friendliest person ever, and you act like you’re a lot better than everyone else,”

“Well I am better than a lot of people,” she said, tossing her hair. 

I didn’t say anything, I knew she was just gonna jump down my throat. She picked up on my reluctance. 

“Mikey – I’m that way because I’m not entirely human, I’m a trapped animal, a beast. I get so easily frustrated with all these vapid bleached Barbie dolls around me acting like they’re better than me because they look better, when I’m the one who’s running across moonlit fields, so in tune with nature I’m an extension of it – I’m the one with the heightened sense of smell and taste and hearing and the healing factor of ten humans put together. It’s hard to relate to anyone when I’ve got as much power as a wolf and I’m just written off as another freak. I’m used to being on my own and keeping people away, from their own safety. And, usually, I don’t care what people think of that,” she sighed. 

“Usually?” I echoed. She avoided my eyes. 

“For some reason, with you and Ger and Frank…it’s a lot more important to be part of a pack than a loner,”

I took this all in, chewing my lip. Then I offered her a small smile. 

“I don’t think you’re a freak, I think you’re exceptional,” I said quietly. Her ear twitched and her mouth curved up just a tiny bit. 

“Thanks…that means a lot,”


	19. XIX

That night, Magenta and Gerard took me outside to her van. Magenta was suppressing a current of excitement whipping through her. Her strides were long and loping, her body buzzing at the prospect of being locked inside her van, ‘wolfed out’, for the night. I knew her wounds were driving her crazy. 

The doors were open to air out the stench and the beanbags and rugs were still gone, but Magenta seemed to settle as soon as she climbed in. Her body curled into the leather couch and she breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

“That’s better,” she whispered. 

Without saying much, we helped her untie the soiled bandages from her sore arms. To my revulsion, the last layer of linen caught to the wounds in sticky lymph encrusted clumps. We had to carefully snip around them, leaving large amounts on her skin. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll be gone by tomorrow, I’ll probably end up gnawing them,”

I felt sick at the idea, but didn’t say anything. It was growing close to nightfall now, the sun had set half an hour earlier. Gerard and I left the back, Gerard giving Mags a hug and she even let me squeeze her fingers. We locked her in and climbed into the front. Gerard started the engine and within minutes we’d driven down the street, somewhere far enough away from no one to hear any odd noises coming from it. Then we waited. The back was separated with a thick metal barring, similar to that you’d find in a taxi in New York. 

The light went faster than I thought it would, and Gerard opened our doors. 

“Just in case she’s in a bad mood,” he explained, twisting around to look through the bars. Magenta was lying on the leather couch in the darkness, only the paleness of her skin visible from where she’d stripped. I couldn’t see her clearly enough to feel pervy…

“It’s ok, guys, I’ll be docile,” she said in a slur. “I’m drunk!”

“Mags!” scolded Gerard, then sighed. “Nope – there’s no point…you really don’t care,”

“Not really…” she mumbled “It’s coming soon,”

I could feel the deep excitement coming from her, she loved the rush of ‘wolfing out’. She’d told me the way it felt, the drug haze of the animal, the freedom, the power.  

She’d brought us both to show me, to prove it to me. I’d said I didn’t need anymore proof, but she wouldn’t back down. And, I had to admit, I was curious…

Gerard didn’t watch, he stared out at the surroundings, keeping an eye for nosy neighbours. I watched Magenta as she began to writhe on the couch, fingernails digging in. The moon was now shining silvered on the van, a single ray of light piercing through the van to light up the back. She hissed when her wrist flailed in the light. 

It happened faster than I thought it could, or would. It was exactly like a horror film as well. She tossed back and forwards, twisting her body and rubbing herself against the leather as if something was scratching the inside of her skin. She was growling, gasping, swearing under her breath. A sick series of pops, cracks, thick dull thudding noises made my teeth shiver inside my head – her bones! They sounded like they were breaking inside her, dislocating and cracking. I wanted to be sick then, imagining the pain it caused. No wonder her nails were scarring the leather, her moans filled with agony.   

Then, almost in one liquid, horrible movement, her skin changed colour. 

Or, at least, that’s what it looked like, she became red all over – until I realised her skin had split like tore seams, it’d just peeled away and left a bloody pulp, under which fur began to bristle out.

I couldn’t get my eyes wide enough to see properly, and that drove me crazy, I couldn’t see exactly what was happening to her. Whatever she was now, the creature had flipped into it’s all fours – not arms, not hands, but paws on the ends of muscular legs covered in slicked black fur. 

The skin lay abandoned on the floor, looking too much like pale glistening leather for my tastes. He head still was covered in the skin, I could see her pale lips open in pain as she growled. With a deep, pained growl, she hunkered down, hind legs hitched forward to scratch at the rip along her neck. The neck which didn’t belong to this form. 

“Mikey, sit back,” Gerard warned in my ear. I didn’t move, I knew she wouldn’t hurt me. I could see the wounds on her wolf body, the deep scratches she’d inflicted with those monstrous claws now puncturing the skin of her cheeks. I watched her tear her face off, freeing a long lean muzzle and two baleful, closed eyes. Her hair didn’t leave with her skin, her skin merely tore around it. The dreadlocks now seemed more a part of the wolf, threading out from the base of her skull and neck, covering her torso in knotted fur like a mane. 

The wolf now sitting in the back of the van, ignored us and chewed on her discarded skin. With a chop and a lick of her lips, a flick of that long rough tongue and a lash of glinting fangs, and the ripped skin was just an unpleasant memory. 

She was still vaguely human shaped. The beast’s arms and legs were longer than wolves, and her back was longer, her torso larger than her hind-quartered, but she was still a wolf now. A large, more aggressive, dreadlocked wolf. 

“I thought she’d be…I don’t know, more human,” I whispered as she stretched on the couch and began to lick the blood off herself. Gerard touched my arm again, pulling me back from where my fingers were laced with the bars and my nose pressed against it, as close to her as possible. 

“During full moon, she’s different. A lot bigger, more human shaped, a lot more aggressive and blood thirsty. But all the other nights, she’s just a wolf, but bigger,” he explained quietly. 

“You saw her as a werewolf?” I gasped. He shook his head. 

“I’ve been tracing the Internet for werewolf sightings,” he said quietly as we watched the injured wolf that had once been our friend, clean her back. “If you know where to look, you find the real stuff – there’s even photographs, but a bit blurry,” 

I chuckled. “Obviously, every photo of the Loch Ness or Big Foot is blurred,”

“But werewolves are real, Mikes,” whispered Gerard. “And she’s not the one we should be worried about,”

Just then, Magenta looked up at us, looking straight at me. I shivered as her wolf eyes bored into me. Bright yellow eyes, glowing gold in the darkness, and tinged with blood red on the inside. And the worst part was…there were no pupils what so ever. 


	20. XX : Scent

For the next few days after all, Magenta was around a lot. Our parents didn’t seem to mind her being there either. In the afternoons, Dad would fawn over her, and in the evenings Mom would talk to her for hours and hours until we managed to get away. 

She was able to talk really easily with them, almost normally. I guess she missed that parental element to life that they offered.

Gerard didn’t have a problem with her talking to either parent because they both assumed he was dating her, and that meant Frankie coming in and out and appearing in the mornings wasn’t a case of suspicion. As for me, I began to enjoy her company, along with my brother and his friends, far more than my own friends. 

I began sitting with them at lunch, and walking home with them and spending far more time with them. Instead of going out to every party going, I stayed home and played videogames with Gerard or lay around on his bed reading comics with Frank. When I wasn’t with them, I was thinking about them. Especially Magenta.

She and I had become friends, somehow. She’d accepted me into her fold. When I walked in the room, she’d give me a half smile and speak to me, she was friendly and made me laugh, just like the others. Sometimes it was obvious she was still the same tough werewolf girl – when she and I got into playfights, she’d always win and leave bruises. She’d tackle people from behind. She’d growl when she was angry. She’d get angry really easily and things got broken.

But mostly, she was great. 

One early summer afternoon, she and I were walking home from school together. Frank was in detention (again) and Gerard was staying behind with Ray to wait for him. Mags hated being at school any longer than she needed to be, so she and I left together. As soon as we left the school grounds, we’d already fallen into a conversation about whether or not capital punishment should be used in some crimes. Magenta was for it in the worst cases, of serial murders or rapists, but I was against it. Killing, in my mind, is always wrong. 

“But Mikey, there is a basis of logic behind it – you can’t deny that!” she defended hotly. I frowned. 

“Logic, maybe, but it’s not perfect logic. If you kill someone for killing someone, you yourself then deserve death as well,”

“Not if the majority rule in favour that death is the suitable punishment – as with our law system would,”

“But no one would agree to bring capital punishment back – it’d be a regression!”

Magenta hmphed. “What do you mean?”

“Humanity is constantly evolving, right? We’ve got flight, electricity, Xboxes – all this stuff! But ignoring that, we’re little better than animals,”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Mags proudly, letting me finish. 

“Anyway – what makes us different is the values we use – honesty, devotion, loyalty, justice, forgiveness,” I listed, ticking off my fingers. “If we abandon one, say forgiveness, we might as well take away everything that makes us human,” 

Magenta didn’t instantly argue back, as I was used to, she took that in and thought on it. 

“I can see your point…but, in that logic, the murderer has abandoned the respect of human life as well – making him little better than an animal. And,” she finished “Humanity is incredibly well known for killing animals every day,”

I nodded and shrugged. “It’s a good argument…but it doesn’t matter, it’ll never really effect us,” I said carelessly. Magenta stopped, her mouth open as she stared at me through her sunglasses. 

“You are joking, right? Mikey, my dad’s a murderer!” she reminded me painfully. I winced. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot!”

She shook her head free, falling back into step with me. “It’s ok, I sometimes forget too…but there’s a loophole for you. My dad’s a killing animal, and I’m going to kill him for it – is that a regression of my humanity of revenge or a progression of my animalistic aggression?”

I bit my lip. “Both,”

She sighed. “I know. It’s a good thing I’m already an animal, or…” she trailed off, pausing. We were walking down a pavement next to an open field in the middle of the suburbs, a park for little kids lined with thick trees. A gentle warm breeze stroked our clothes and hair. I stopped and looked at her. 

“Mags?”

She had an odd look on her face – a far away, distracted look. Her mouth hung open, pulling the scented air over her sensitive tongue. I reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped away from me, her jacket almost slipping from her shoulders. 

“You ok?”

She shook her head. “I can smell something…something wrong. It’s him,” she whispered, moving closer to me and dropping her voice. There was a vague hint of apprehension in her. “Or it was,”

“What do you mean?” I breathed, my lungs filling with dread. She glanced around. 

“The air…I can smell old blood, old fur and stale prey…he was here, at least for a while,” she hissed, turning into the wind and breathing deeply. “It’s fresh,”

I shivered, despite the sun burning my neck. 

“Come on, Mags, leave it for now – please?”

She ignored me, threading her jacket back over her almost completely healed arms. All that remained were pale lines of flesh peeling dead skin. It was the transformation, she told me. Every time she shed a skin, she lost another layer of wound.

She ignored me this time, pretty much like I expected her to, and began to follow the wind’s origin, heading for the source. I groaned, wishing we’d just continued towards home, I had a shit load of homework to rush for tomorrow. I looked between the two paths. One led the concrete pavement home to my comic books and comfy bed. The other followed a werewolf into the trees, following the wind. 

I chose Magenta’s path, treading after her. She glanced behind me. I swear she gave me a crooked smile. 

“Stay close,” she hissed as we entered the canopy of shadowing trees. She crouched down as she walked, positioning her feet lightly and carefully. She made hardly a rustle as she walked over dead leaves and twigs, moving in time with nature. I followed as quietly as possible. 

We followed the path down to the centre of the dip in the woodland, going so deep I couldn’t see the edges anymore, only tree after tree. It was so green, so rich with thick, woody air. It was humid, wet and smelt of rotting leaves. Magenta breathed it in with relish, finding the smell of death inside it. 

“It’s his,” she whispered as our eyes caught a dark stain on the bark of a tree. “He came through here,”

“How long ago?” I asked, keeping my voice low. She leaned into the trunk, sniffing the trunk carefully. 

“A few weeks now, but the fur scent’s repeated, he’s been coming through here in that time,” she told me, beginning to lead me further on. 

“Are we safe?” I breathed, beginning to worry. She shrugged. 

“Are we ever?”

I gulped – I really didn’t want to run into Magenta’s old man, I was terrified of the idea of meeting a murdering werewolf. Magenta must have sensed my fear. She did something I never thought she would ever do – she reached behind her and found my hand and laced her worn fingers in between mine. 

“I won’t let him hurt you,” she whispered as we walked, still crouching in the scare shadows. The wood seemed filled with ambient green sunlight. Only now I didn’t notice as we walked on, deeper into it – all I could concentrate on was Magenta’s warm hand clasped into mine. Her hand seemed to fit mine perfectly, and the hold was firm and smooth – my palm wasn’t sweating, my fingers weren’t trembling. It was nice. Sweet.

Something I didn’t expect from her, to be honest. She wasn’t that kind of girl.  


	21. XXI : Snare

After ten or fifteen minutes of silent walking, our hands still joined, Magenta froze and I almost walked into the back of her. The hairs rose on the back of my head. I hadn’t smelt the reek of death until she stopped. 

“It’s his den,” she whispered. I swallowed, looking around her shoulder. What I saw both confused and sickened me. There was another dip in the land, the valley forming a bowl of dying leaves as a mottled red and brown carpet. Near the bottom, a crashed car lay forgotten. The windows were blacked out, the bonnet and front crushed like an accordion after a collision with a tree still embedded in it’s motor. The door was open and from the small path of unintentionally cleared leaves leading from it, inhabited. 

That would have all been fine if it weren’t for the carcasses littering the small valley. As Magenta pushed me aside and nudged me into a thick bush of spiky leaves, hiding us, I saw bodies of deer, foxes, countless squirrels and even a few dogs. They were all partially eaten, the muscles and organs ripped away to leave fleshy, red hunks of meat still with recognisable limbs and heads, skins left to dry and rot in the sunlight. 

The smell was noxious. 

“Oh my God,” I moaned, closing my eyes. Luckily I was too far away to see too much. I opened my eyes when I felt Mags push something cold and odd feeling onto my clothes, rubbing me. 

“Urgh! Mags!” I gasped, seeing her smear mud all over me. “What are you doing?”

She ignored me. 

“You reek of human, he’ll smell you straight away – I gotta mask our scents as best as I can,”

I tried to protest but she pinned me into the bush and eventually coated me in thick, slimy, foul smelling mud, and then herself. We must have looked ridiculous. She pushed herself further into the bush, winding our bodies together as we hid. 

“Why are we waiting?” I hissed into her ear. She turned her head, her face so close to mine I could feel her breath on my muddy skin.

“I have to check he’s nested here, although it looks pretty certain, and I wanna see what condition he’s in. I hurt him badly enough last time we met I know he’ll have stayed until full moon, but some of these are fresh – he’s been killing a lot to heal…” she explained, then hissed a warning. Someone was coming. 

We stayed as still as tree trunks for what seemed hours until someone emerged from the opposite side of the wood and began to descend into the pit, the wind blowing his scent past us. Even I could scent the whiskey on it. 

The man was about late thirties, and looked shabby and sick. He wore stained and torn demin overalls, knotted around his waist, and a wife beater that was once white but was now a mixture of brown, red and grey. His skin was heavily tanned from days in the hot sun, and covered in scars – most likely from Magenta and his own canine instincts. He was stocky, heavily muscled, and balding, and shadows with stubble. He reminded me of Bruce Willis from the Die Hard movies – rugged and bloody and dirty. 

He was dragged a sack over his shoulder which was seeped in blood, and held a whiskey bottle in the other, half full. 

As he dumped the bag down outside the car and sat down on the protruding backseat, swigging on the whiskey, I suddenly realised we might have been stuck there a while. The idea made me need to piss really, really badly. 

We stayed there, watching, holding our breath for minutes on end. Magenta’s hand found mine again, quelling my rising panic as he sat still in the car. Every so often, when I was sure he’d fallen asleep, he swigged. I began to get really scared. The sun was beginning to set, and I’d began to hate both him and Magenta for getting me into this nightmare. I really needed to pee. After a while, he got up and swayed dangerously on the slope. His bottle was empty. He swore and shoved the bleeding sack inside the car, before setting off to find more booze. 

I froze when I saw he began to climb up the side closest to us, barely five metres from us. Even my heart seemed to stop beating, my breath held frozen in my lungs. Soon my body began to scream for oxygen but I held it until he passed us, too drunk to keep his eyes open properly. After a few minutes of breathing steadily through my nose and keeping more still than I had in my entire life, I saw Magenta move, begin to turn her head and released the trapped air. 

“Oh my God,” I moaned, sighing. “That sucked,” 

Mags gave a short chuckle. “That’s Daddy for ya…we better get outta here before he – urgh!”

I opened my eyes quickly to find Magenta’s head crushed against the tree trunk, a thick set hand wrapped around her throat. Her father’s face appeared, looking between us in a drunken mixture of confusion, anger, and mirth. 

“Before I come back, Maggie?”

She made a strangulated noise, her nails already digging into his meaty arm, drawing blood he didn’t notice. He gave her an evil look. 

“Wassa matter, Maggie, baby? Ain’t ya happy to see your old man?”


	22. XXII : Slaughter

I gaped at Magenta and her Dad, my mind going about 300 miles per second. What to do? What should I do? Was he going to kill her? He was if I didn’t do something fast. 

“Stop! Stop!” I gabbled, reaching with one muddy hair to grip his arm, trying to weakly pull it away from Magenta’s face. She was growing pale, her hidden eyes glaring at her father. 

“Knock it off, rodent,” snarled her father, swinging his free hand at me and backslapping me with enough force to knock me through the bush and onto the muddy floor of the wood. 

“Magenta! Stop it! Leave her alone!”

I cried out, staggering to my feet and running back, hitting his back, his shoulders, swatting like a fly attacks a lazy dog’s ear. He laughed as Magenta swore, his grip still cutting off her air. 

“You know you can survive for air for minutes on end, Maggie baby, we used to practise when we were little, remember?”

His drunken, sing song voice sunk through me as images of him holding her under bathwater flashed through my mind. I gaped as she saw the same things, recalling past, painful memories. Her arms dropped to her sides. He chuckled. 

“Good little Maggie, we learnt to – ARGH!”

In one deft, fast motion, she raised her hand again and stabbed him in his eye with two pointed nails. Howling in rage and pain he dropped her, staggering backwards. Magenta leapt forward, into a tense crouch. She snarled, a feral growl coming from deep within her throat. Her father turned and tried to grab me as a shield, but I threw myself away. 

But not before I saw his other eye. Not the one bleeding and causing him to howl like a wounded animal, but the normal one. The eye of a Pure Blood. It was pitch black, no white at all. And then in the centre, instead of a orb of pure colour cut with a slit, there was a ring of jagged red, like one of those balls which fold into spiky spheres then expand to four times the size. They burnt like fire. 

I cried out then, he made another snatch for me, sharp claws ripping my jeans, tearing the skin beneath. Magenta leapt onto his back, screaming in my defence. Her father howled and I suddenly realised the light was fading. I swallowed heavily. I knew, once the sun set and the moon rose, I’d be in the middle of a werewolf fight. 

“Mikey! Run! Run!” she screamed in an inhuman voice, her sunglasses tore free from her face as her father flipped her off his back and she sprang back to her feet. I glimpsed the same black and red eyes of a Pure Blood werewolf before I turned and ran away. 

I stopped almost instantly, hearing her cry out in pain. I turned to see her father latching his claws into her leg, writhing on the floor as her dug her own sharpened nails into his neck. If she changed to fight, and won, she’d need my help afterwards. She’d be injured, bleeding, naked and alone. I couldn’t abandon her. 

I watched in frozen horror as the two fought, landing heavy punches in guts and faces, snarling and yelling insults. Magenta wasn’t scared of him, but he was of her. She took every hit and delivered it back with more strength and speed than he could, she was faster, stronger, younger and angrier. 

She saw me and her teeth bared in protective anger. 

“Mikey! RUN!”

I shook my head dumbly. He took the chance to whack her soundly across the face, sending her sprawled on the floor. He turned and charged at me, unnaturally sharp teeth glinting as he descended. I screamed as my fingers touched something hard. I grabbed whatever it was and swung, whacking him across the face with a heavy rotten log from his firewood collection. 

He slipped on the wed mud and tumbled down the valley, rolling down. I found Magenta at my side. She looked insane, and her eyes glowed just like his. I was amazed. 

“Mikey, you have to run!” she cried. I shook my head. 

“I can’t leave you!”

“Then hide!” she screamed, looking down at where her father rolled onto his back and swore. “It’s coming!”

I looked up, looking for the moon through the trees. I gulped. I looked back into her eyes. 

“I’ll be waiting,” I whispered. She was gone before I could say anything else, bounding down the valley. I swung myself up into the tree next to me, climbing up the slimy bark, my feet and hands finding holds as my eyes watched Magenta run towards her father. 

This time, the change was fast and fluid, but far more disgusting. Her skin began to burst on her face, cracking it in two and the skin peeling away from the wolf face underneath. I realised her bones must have cracked into place as she ran and winced for her, the bellow coming from her muzzle was one of pure pain as she tore out of her old skin and her old clothes.  

Soon all that was left of Magenta were some rags and strips of flesh left in the mud along with all the other carcasses. Now there was only a wolf with a matted mane of dreads loping towards her father. In a second she was on him, her transformation took barely a second itself. She leapt on him and began clawing at him. I heard the trademark pop and crunch of his bones clicking into place beneath her scrabbling claws. 

But when it came to burst out of his skin, nothing happened. Her jaws were fastened around his neck, her sharp claws racking him over and over as she maimed him. I realised the pop, the crunch, were her jaws breaking his limbs in savage bites. He was dead before I even reached the top of the tree. 

I saw Magenta back up, step off his dead body. She laid her head low to his and sniffed him, nudging him with her muzzle to check if he was really dead. Then she sat back on her haunches and let out a howl. 

I’d never heard such a long, low, mournful noise. It was a howl of pure grief. It was one wolf mourning for another. But I knew she mourned for her mother. And for her humanity. I sat in the tree, feeling my insides curdle as she howled again and again, singing to the moon as distant howls of dogs joined hers in a canine lament.

Soon, bit by bit, her howls evolved, died out and gave away to barked sobs, moans of pain. She began to twitch, to scratch at her bleeding fur. With the power of her back leg, she ripped her wolf skin, clean off her naked back. 

Threading her arms and face loose from the reeking skin, she covered herself with her arms and threw back her head and moaned to the air, grieving as a girl. I hurled out of the tree and ran to her, slipping, falling, keeping my eyes trained on her until I stumbled by her side and ripped off my muddy jacket, wrapping it around her cold, shivering, bleeding form. 

She turned and threw herself into my embrace, howling with unashamed abandon, crying the tears of a wolf daughter. 

“It’s ok, Mags, it’s over, it’s all ok,” I whispered, stroking her hair, holding her close, tight. I never felt so happy to be close to her. 

“No Mikey, it can’t be!” she moaned, crying, choking on her tears. She broke away and looked at me with those black and red jagged eyes. They made me shiver to the core – they thrilled me. “Look at the moon, Mikey! It’s the new moon tonight! I wasn’t meant to change! I’m losing it, Mikey! I’m becoming an animal!”


	23. XXIII : Survival

How I got her home was a marvel to me. I held her until she stopped crying, stopped panicking. I held her until she lay against my body and fit against me like a jigsaw piece. Her breathing evened out, her arms stayed woven around me as she dried her tears by the night light and rubbed the dirt off her skin and my own. I held her until she shivered and asked me to take her home. 

She was naked and freezing, her skin was ice to the touch. I found her mud coated army jacket and wiped the blood off it before wrapping it around her. 

She was in pain. Her father had stabbed her leg with his long nails, and scratched her all over. She could barely walk, blood running down her leg. In the end, I lifted her up and carried her, something I didn’t know I was strong enough to do. 

She lay her head against my shoulder and let me carry her, watching me through her amazing eyes. It took a long time to get home, she was heavier than I was used to. 

But soon, we arrived in my driveway and her van. I unlocked it and lifted her inside. 

“Don’t leave me…” she whispered. She’d become a lot more fragile, more vulnerable. She was scared, I think. I shook my head. 

“I’ll only be a second, you need medical attention,”

She shook her head, sitting up. The jacket fell from around her body and I had to concentrate not to look. 

“Please, don’t leave. Stay with me,” she said, reaching out. I swallowed. She smiled. She actually smiled. She didn’t look as hard or fierce when she smiled. She looked younger, more innocent. Like a Texas sweetheart on a tractor in hazy sunshine, dressed in overalls and dirty bare feet. She looked like a normal girl. 

Except for the fact she was bleeding, naked and now a murderer. Only, that didn’t bother me. I turned away to the door and considered. Glancing up at the house, I smirked to myself and pulled the door shut, sealing us in darkness. 

“It’s ok, I’m here, I won’t leave you,” I told her, finding her in the darkness. She wriggled into my arms, wrapping hers around my waist and reaching to click on a light. She was lit up in a dim amber glow. We were half sitting, half lying on her rug. 

“Get the blankets and cushions off the couch, and from under it. I’m cold,” she asked. I nodded and reached up to pull the blankets and cushions and beanbags closer to us. Soon, when Magenta’s expert help, we’d formed a nest on the van floor. 

She didn’t bother with more clothes, her naked body just wrapped around mine and she soaked up my heat. 

“I don’t feel like I thought I would,” she whispered, laying her head down opposite mine, inches away. I felt her body relax against mine, her wounds already starting to clot and heal. I brushed a dreadlock off the side of her face gently, staring into her absolutely mind-blowing eyes. 

“What do you mean?” I asked softly. The Birthday Massacre played gently in the background, she’d made tonight perfect. She sighed, still looking into my eyes. 

“I thought, after I killed him, I’d feel free, happy…but it didn’t happen that way. I was too scared, for you and for me…Mikey, I’m scared…I changed on a new moon! Even Pure Bloods aren’t meant to be able to do that!”

“Shh,” I calmed her down, stroking her shoulder gently. “You did it to save yourself, and me, you’re in control,” I told her. “You’re the most in control person I know,” I said. She chuckled. 

“No, I’m not. I lose my temper easy, I smash windows and I can’t stand quiz shows or shopping,”

I laughed. 

“I never said patient,” I said and she laughed again. We stayed quiet for a while longer, just lying still. 

“I’m still running from the kill, I’m buzzing inside,” she said. “I’m bubbling over,”

My eyebrows raised. 

“Really?”

She nodded, biting her lip. 

“In fact, I feel in the mood for…”

Her eyes trailed down my face and neck, down onto my clothed chest suggestively. There was a glint in her eyes I knew couldn’t be solved with cake or cuddling, like the last few girls I got near this with could. 

“Mags, are you sur-“

She was up and out of my arms in seconds, pushing me down onto my back and sitting astride my lap. 

“Come on, baby, it’ll be fun,” she grinned, her hands resting on my chest. “Plus, I like you so it’ll be even better,”

I gulped, this _was_ what I wanted but…was now the right time? I moaned as she dug her nails softly into my chest, tearing holes in my t shirt. 

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” she said softly, dropping the act. I opened my eyes and looked up at me, the jacket now pooled around her back, stopping at her elbows. Her bare skin looked so luminous in the light, so smooth and inviting. The wounds, instead of scaring me, became part of her raw appeal. Bloodlust began to evolve in me. 

Was this what it was like to be an animal? To feel free and charged and wild?

“What happened to the hard arse, tough girl you used to be? You’re almost normal,” I teased her gently. She smiled, dropping her eyes. 

“Can’t be a bitch all the time, can I?”

I smiled at her joke, and reached up to touch the side of her face. 

“Plus,” she said in the softest, most girly voice I would ever hear her use “I _really_ like you,”

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked her in the eye, calling her down to me with just a look. She bent down slowly, her fingers travelling to touch my throat. When our lips touched, it was like liquid fire.  

_Romance is breaking every heart in two_

_Casting shadows in the pale shade of blue_

She tore my t shirt from my body, ripping in down the middle. Her tongue lapped like a wild beast, she kissed me hungrily, craving the fire between us. It was the most wonderful night of my life. She wore me out, she drove me wild. I loved her like the movies said, only it went so much further than that. She wasn’t a normal girl, sweethearts and roses weren’t at the end of her rainbow. A mate, a partner, an equal. We were wild beasts, together, corroding in the dark. We stayed together until the sun rose and she fell asleep in my arms. 

My werewolf. 


	24. XXIV: Seperation

I woke up when a ray of sunlight reflected off the mirror ball Magenta hung off her rear view mirror caught my eye one too many times. I twitched out of its way and sighed. I had never felt so warm in my entire life. I could feel Magenta’s head resting on my chest, her hand lying to the side of my face. Her dreadlocks tickling my bare skin.  

I still couldn’t believe everything from the day before. Hunting her father with her, seeing her change in the blink of an eye, watching her kill him and holding her close as she howled. And then, back here, in her van. 

I could see why she loved it. Colours from the glass ornaments she hung in the window played across the roof of the van, twinkling. A warm glow filled the small space, most of the windows still blocked off. My eyes went past the deep scratches in the metal, and focussed on her. 

I sighed again. I must have woken her because she sat bolt upright, jumping back. 

“Mags?” I asked, sitting up. She looked panicked, confused, but just for a second. She glanced around and then looked back at me. A relieved half smile appeared on her face. 

“Thank God, I was dreaming last night went differently,” she said, drawing the blankets around her body and sighing. 

“You mean, you and I didn’t…”

“No, not that, my father,” she said like I was stupid. I laughed then, relieved. 

“So you don’t regret what we did?” I checked, a small stupid smile stuck on my face. Mags smiled back, reaching over to touch the side of my face. 

“No, I don’t regret things I want to do,”

I held my arms out to her then and she lay back down next to me, wrapping her body around mine and stretching. The cuts and bruises on her body didn’t seem so bad in the dim morning light. I closed my eyes happily – this really was beginning to be the best day ever.  

“Mikey, you know I have to go, don’t you?”

Her whisper wriggled inside my head like a wasp. I opened my eyes, but didn’t move apart from that. My hands tightened on her waist. 

“Yeah…I do. I just can’t understand why,”

She moved even closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder. 

“I can’t stay among people, it’s too dangerous. You saw me change last night, when there wasn’t a moon…what happens if I start getting worse? Going beyond the legends? What if I change during the day? I can’t risk it,” she said softly. I nodded, stroking her hair gently and staring up at the roof, at the deep feral gashes in them. They seemed a lot more important now. 

“I need to run free,” she whispered a minute later. “I think, if I learn to accept my wolf side, I can control it so much better,”

“But,” I said gently “what if you just stop bothering to be human? What if you stay a wolf all the time? Kill your food, sleep in caves, stop bothering with clothes and washing and school?”

Mags shook her head. 

“I couldn’t, there’s too much to lose if I did that,” she said, twisting her head up to kiss the side of my neck. I turned my head, kissing her gently, my chest swelling with her words. She didn’t want to lose me either. 

“You don’t want to leave,” I said, now resting to look straight into her eyes. She shook her head. 

“No, I don’t. I love it here. I have great friends here, it’s a good town, I like it. It feels like home. It’s…it’s got you,” she said, and I swear to God she blushed. She actually blushed. 

“Mags…I think I lo-“

“Don’t say it,” she said quickly, closing her eyes. “If you say it, I can’t leave. And if I stay, I won’t cope,”

I swallowed heavily, there was a lump swirling to life in my throat. I nodded. 

“I won’t say it. But you know it,” 

She nodded. 

“And…you know it too,”

We kissed each other softly, both of us leaving the words we wanted to say silent as we held each other close and said it through our lips and tongues. I pulled away and kissed her nose lightly. 

“Where will you go?”

“Back to Canada. Back home now there’s no threat. I’ll visit my Mom’s grave and run wild in the hills,” she said gently. I smiled. 

“How long have you wanted to go home?”

She bit her lip. “Ever since I left,”

I chuckled to myself softly, reaching up to cup her cheek in my hand. “You’re so much more sweet and lovable than you show the world. You want people to think you’re badass and tough and bitchy but really…you’re just this amazing, wonderful girl,”

“Shut up, Mikey, before I snap your dick off,”

“I take it all back,”

She laughed and I smiled. She didn’t know it, but she had a nice laugh. 

“When?”

She stopped laughing, the light dying from her eyes. 

“The longer I wait, the harder it’ll be,” she said, and I knew once again she meant me. I wanted to smile, to feel wanted and needed, but I knew she was right. The longer she stayed here, with me, in this place, the harder it would be to leave. 

“So when?”

“Today. I’ll say goodbye, I’ll supply up and then I’ll go,”

I closed my eyes and fought not to let even one tear form. I knew she’d hate it. She leaned forward, pushing her lips against mine, whispering softly into my ear. 

“You didn’t hear this but – the hardest part of this, is just leaving you,” 


	25. Epilogue

Magenta left many friends in Belleville. There was a line of us waving goodbye as she left in the end. 

Gerard and Frank stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand despite the odd look Dad threw them as he gave Magenta the biggest box of cookies and buns ever. Ray next to them, blowing his nose sentimentally. There was the kid from down the road, Bob or something, and the art kids from school, as well as several dropouts from the area. 

Magenta looked just as amazing as when I first saw her. New black jeans, with no rips or stains yet, and a black t shirt with Gerard’s hand painted ballerina shooting herself in a splatter of butterflies. Her same old camo army jacket, tossed carelessly over her tanned shoulders, looking as tattered and memorable as her van. 

The van itself was freshly decked with food and supplies, as well as gifts of patchwork blankets, new beanbags, photographs from her time here and a fresh layer of spray painted ghouls, goblins, angels and snakes from Gerard in his trademark black white and red comic book style. On the back, it still read Magenta Moon Rising in bright neon colours, Gerard’s monochrome figures interspersed with bright rainbow colours as well. 

Magenta hugged each of us goodbye, leaving me until last. When she reached me, she lowered her sunglasses far enough to give me a big cheesy, secretive wink. I smiled and took her hand, leading her over to her van as everyone waved and called goodbye, begging her to come back soon. 

“I’m not going to say it, but you know it,” I said softly as she opened the door and leant against the driver car. She smiled and took both my hands. In the passenger’s seat there were roses from me, brilliant blue stained roses. I knew she’d dry them when they died and keep them to remind herself of me and the gushy sappy romanticisms she couldn’t stand. 

“I will never forget you, Mikey. I’ll come back one day, I promise you,” she said in another tiny vulnerable moment. I sniffed fiercely. 

“I won’t cry like a little bitch until you’ve turned the corner,” I promised. She smiled back, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. 

“I can’t make the same promise,”

She kissed me in front of everyone, ignoring the cat calls and whistles. We kissed for what seemed years, holding each other hands and tenderly saying goodbye in the only way that really seemed to mean it. 

Finally, she pulled away. 

“I have to go,”

She got in the van, kissed me once more, shut the door and waved goodbye one last time. I stood in the road, watching her drive away slowly. I kept my word, I kept the two tears swimming my vision into dancing sparkles inside until she turned the corner and was gone. 

Our werewolf was gone. My werewolf, Magenta. 

 

It was two years or so. On a boring day in April. Nothing special about it at all. I’d changed a lot since she’d left. I spent a lot of my time with Gerard and Frank and Ray during school, in the art block or on the field. I stayed in with them at night, watching movies or drinking or playing my bass. I read comic books and debating Justice League versus the Avengers with my brother. I stopped hanging out with Kim and the rest of the popular crowd, not that they wanted to talk to me anyway after it became local news I’d fallen for the ‘stinky freak’. 

I missed her scent more than anything else, I had to admit. It was a pheromone thing, I guess. She just attracted males to her, and I had been hooked from the start. 

At first, living had been a chore. I wouldn’t get out of bed for hours, staring out the window and hoping she was ok. It was like getting over a five year long relationship, it seemed impossible at first, even though we only had one night together. 

It was the most unforgettable night ever. We both ceased being human and became something else, not animal or man. It had been…magic. 

Like I said, it was a boring April day two years after Magenta left. I was still alive, I was pretty much happy. I hadn’t been near a girl romantically since she left but that didn’t bother me. I had close friends and my life seemed pretty good. 

I was walked past the park we stalked her father through, and the wind flipped my hair across my eyes. I breathed in the air and thought…maybe? Did I? Was it?

I shrugged, my imagination laughing at me as I made my way home. 

Something on the back of my neck, a shiver, a feeling, made me go into my front garden and sit in the warm sunshine, rest my back against a tree trunk and close my eyes. 

I waited, smiling to myself. 

I heard cars go past in the streets, birds chirping, my dad singing Elvis in the kitchen. A vehicle stopped outside our house and reversed into the driveway. My smile grew bigger as the driver turned off the music and kicked open the door. A crunch of gravel under thick army boots. A familiar smell. 

I felt her walk closer to me, treading lightly on the grass. She sat down against the tree trunk, her shoulder touching mine. The same old camo jacket, fallen down her arms to pool around her, baring her tanned skin to the sun. 

“So…how was Canada?”

She made an impressed face, nodding, and taking her sunglasses off. 

“It was good. I camped in the mountains – ran free every night,”

“How’d it feel?”

She twisted to look at me, my face turned to meet her red and black gaze warmly. She smiled. 

“Fantastic. Free…”

“But?”

“But it wasn’t enough,” she said, dropping her eyes and blushing. I loved seeing her blush, even after so long. We’d both changed slightly. Her hair was longer, another tattoo graced her arm, and she’d lost a piercing. I was taller, broader in the shoulders, my hair was messier and I wore eyeliner these days (I blame Frank, lil fag). 

“What do you mean?” I asked, pushing her even though I knew instinctively what she was trying to say.

“I…I…” she looked up at me and saw my smirk. She punched my arm “I’m gonna kill you – you know I’m not good at this soppy, lovey dovey shit,”

I laughed.   
”You really aren’t,”

I twisted around to take her hands in mine. 

“It’s ok, I am. I love you, Magenta Sharp – will you marry me?”

She burst out laughing and grabbed me in the hug. “You twat! Stop messing with me!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I pulled back to lean my forehead against hers and gave her a gentle kiss. “Mags, I love you, I never want to lose you again,”

She blushed brilliant crimson. “I love you too…I missed you every single day,”

I smiled. “Me too,”

I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her in the sunlight, listening to her tell me about her adventures, her mishaps, her stories. She listened to my gossip about Gerard, Frank, everyone in Belleville. And then we, feeling we’d done enough catching up verbally, snuck into her van to catch up on 730 nights worth of each other. 

Woof woof. 

 

The End.


End file.
